THE ANCIENT HOUSES.
Many of the houses of the Klamath River Indians date back to the
prehistoric centuries of the long, long ago, and have been repaired
and rebuilt many generations. Some of them are hallowed with alluring
traditions and inspiring history, when our people were powerful and
ruled a mighty nation. The Indian name of these houses is Oc-lo-melth.
One of these houses is situated at Wah-tec, less than two hundred
yards from where the White Deer-Skin Dance is held, and is my mother’s
house, where she was born and where she first looked out upon the light
of a strange world. The surroundings of this house are filled with
the romance of centuries, together with the wonderful history of the
passing ages, as it dates back before the Indians came to this land
from Cheek-cheek-alth. They say the house first belonged to the Wa-gas,
the white people that were here when they first arrived. The Wa-gas
were very fond of pets and while they lived in this house they kept a
number of deer as pets.
When the Wa-gas left this land, they left behind at this place a young
man that was half Indian and half white. He remained for some time
and cared for the pets, as the Wa-gas cherished them. The young man
became lonesome for his people, in spite of the fact that he was very
devoted to the deer, and one day he answered the call of the Wa-gas
and followed in their footsteps, to join them in the far north. As
he was leaving he asked the Indians of my ancient blood to care for
his pets, as he would be absent and never return. This my people have
done according to the request of the young man and out of their great
friendship between the two races. This ancient house became a hallowed
spot where sacred memories fill its every surroundings of a people that
have passed away in silence long ago.
In one corner of this dwelling, within its walls, is a large stone
trough which was made and placed there by the Wa-gas untold centuries
ago, so they could feed their deer. The deer were fed upon the stalks
of tobacco and the walth-pay, the stalks being pounded into fine meal,
mixed together and then placed in the stone trough for the deer to
eat. It was said for ages, and up to the advent of the present white
race, that the spirits of the departed Wa-gas would come earthward in
the deep shadows of the evening time and open a door, which was made
in the corner of the house for that purpose, so the deer could come in
at night and feed upon the meal. The deer would stealthily emerge from
their forest homes at night and upon finding the door open would enter
the house and eat the meal, then just before the break of day they
would silently vanish into the forests, and the door would be closed
when morning came. My mother has seen the deer coming toward the house
in the dark shadows of evening, but she has not seen them for a good
many years, as they have become hunted beasts of prey.
Through the memory of the passing ages the Wa-gas left this land before
the world was covered with water, and according to these traditions
this house goes back for hundreds of centuries. This house has
survived, with its long line of descendants, but it is now fading in
the storm of years that are passing, and the place of its ruins will
soon be forgotten.
There are a number of these old houses in the different villages along
the Klamath river, from its source to its mouth, and on the coast from
Ah-man to Trinidad. At the present day most of them are deserted, and
are left to sink into ruins and oblivion.
The rattlesnake is called May-yep-pere, and they make their dwelling
places under the ground and in the dark recesses. The children born in
this house are not afraid of these snakes, as they never harm them.
The snakes crawl out and over the house without restraint. I had no
thought of fear, as the blood of ages had made me akin to these fierce
reptiles, where my people had sheltered them and fed them for thousands
of years. In olden times the whole family would go away and leave
the house alone for several days, sometimes for two or three weeks,
and during their absence the snakes would creep out over the house
and lie about in numerous places. If a stranger tried to approach the
house they gave him warning, and if he attempted to enter they would
at once be aroused into a fury and would attack him. My mother says
that strangers have attempted to enter the house while the family was
away and have been severely bitten by the rattlers. Therefore, the door
of this house was always left unlocked, as no one would ever attempt
to enter it that knew its strange history. If the family was at home,
strangers could come and go at their will, as it was never known that
the snakes ever attempted to harm any one while some member of the
family was present.
When the family would return from their sojourn, the head of the
household, or someone who was born in this house, would precede the
rest. I remember it was always my mother’s duty upon reaching the door
of the house, and she would begin talking in a low tone of voice,
saying: “We are coming home, we are here now and you must all go out of
the way.” Upon hearing her voice the snakes would immediately begin to
creep away to their hiding places. Upon entering she would begin to tap
lightly upon the floor with her cane and would keep talking until all
the snakes would disappear, after which the rest of the family would
enter the house, talking, laughing and playing without any thought of
the snakes ever harming them.
This historical house is now owned by my mother, and in which she
has not lived for fifteen years, but up until about five years ago
she would go almost every day and build a fire in it and sit around
the house and weave baskets. In the past five years it has not been
repaired and has racked into ruins, so bad that she does not care
to enter it any more, except on special occasions when she wants to
break up something. For the past twenty years she has been breaking
and pounding to pieces the stone bowls, trays and all the ancient
implements that were left by the Wa-gas. She is endeavoring to destroy
all these sacred reminiscences of the prehistoric days that they may
never be ruthlessly handled and curiously gazed upon by the present
white race. The stone trough that the deer fed out of, is so large and
heavy that she cannot break it to pieces, but is letting it sink into
the ground, and it is being covered with rubbish, together with
its strange charm and fascinating history, where my pen has failed to
impress, this deep sentiment, therefore its wonderful tradition has
faded with the closing of this chapter where a new era has dawned. My
mother gave my husband two of the small stone bowls, as relics of the
days that are gone forever, and he keeps them as cherished memories.
[Illustration: MRS. THOMPSON’S MOTHER AND FATHER, AND HER MOTHER’S
HOUSE NOW DESERTED.]