THE RIDE TO SAVE OREGON.
The world loves a hero, and the pioneer history of our several States
furnishes as interesting characters as are anywhere recorded. In view
of the facts and conditions already recited, the old Missionaries were
anxious and restless, and yet felt in a measure powerless to avert the
danger threatened. They believed fully that under the terms of the
treaty of 1818, re-affirmed in 1828, whichever nationality settled and
organized the territory, that nation would hold it.
This was not directly affirmed in the terms of that treaty, but was so
interpreted by the Americans and English in Oregon, and was greatly
strengthened by the fact that leading statesmen in Congress had for
nearly half a century wholly neglected Oregon, and time and again gone
upon record as declaring it worthless and undesirable. In their
conferences the Missionaries from time to time had gone over the whole
question, and did everything in their power to encourage immigration.
Their glowing accounts of the fertility of the soil, the balmy
climate, the towering forests, the indications of richness in
minerals, had each year induced a limited number of more daring
Americans to immigrate.
In this work of the Missionaries Jason Lee, the chief of the Methodist
Missions, was, up to the date of the incident we are to narrate, the
most successful of all. He was a man of great strength of character.
Like Whitman, he was also a man of great physical strength, fearless,
and, with it all, wise and brainy. No other man among the pioneers,
for his untiring energy in courting immigration, can be so nearly
classed with Whitman.
They were all men, who, though in Oregon to convert Indian savages to
Christianity, yet were intensely American. They thought it no abuse of
their Christianity to carry the banner of the Cross in one hand and
the banner of their country in the other. Missionaries as they were,
thousands of miles from home, neglected by the Government, yet the
love of country seemed to shine with constantly increasing luster.
In addition to the Missionaries, at the time of which we write, there
was quite a population of agriculturists and traders in the near
vicinity of each mission. These heartily coöperated with the
Missionaries and shared their anxieties. In 1840-'41 many of them met
and canvassed the subject whether they should make an attempt to
organize a government under the Stars and Stripes; but they easily saw
that they were outnumbered by the English, who were already organized
and were the real autocrats of the country.
So the time passed until the fall of 1842, when Elijah White, an
Indian agent for the Government in the Northwest, brought a party of
Americans, men, women and children, numbering one hundred and twenty,
safely through to Waiilatpui. In this company was a more than usually
intelligent, well-informed Christian gentleman, destined to fill an
important place in our story, General Amos L. Lovejoy. He was
thoroughly posted in national affairs, and gave Dr. Whitman his first
intimation of the probability that the Ashburton Treaty would likely
come to a crisis before Congress adjourned in March, 1843. This
related, as it was supposed, to the entire boundary between the United
States and the English possessions.
The question had been raised in 1794, "Where is 'the angle of Nova
Scotia,' and where are the 'highlands between the angle and the
northwest head of the Connecticut River?'" Time and again it had been
before commissioners, and diplomats had many times grown eloquent in
explaining, but heretofore nothing had come of it. Much was made of
it, and yet it was only a dispute as to who owned some twelve thousand
and twenty acres of land, much of which was of little value.
Looking back now one wonders at the shortsightedness of statesmen who
quarreled for forty-eight years over this garden patch of rocky land
in Maine, when three great states were quietly slipping away with
scarcely a protest. But this arrival of recruits, and this knowledge
of the political situation revealed by General Lovejoy, at once
settled Dr. Whitman upon his line of duty.
To Mrs. Whitman he at once explained the situation, and said he felt
impelled to go to Washington. She was a missionary's wife, a
courageous, true-hearted, patriotic woman, who loved and believed in
her husband, and at once consented. Under the rules the local members
of the Mission had to be consulted, and runners were at once
dispatched to the several stations, and all responded promptly, as the
demand was for their immediate presence.
There was a second rule governing such cases of leave of absence, and
that was the sanction, from headquarters, of the American Board in
Boston. But in this emergency Dr. Whitman preferred to take all the
responsibility and cut the red tape. Dr. Eells, one of the noblest of
the old Missionaries, writes an account of that conference, and it is
all the more valuable from the fact that he was opposed to the
enterprise.
Dr. Eells says: "The purpose of Dr. Whitman was fixed. In his
estimation the saving of Oregon to the United Spates was of paramount
importance, and he would make the attempt to do so, even if he had to
withdraw from the Mission in order to accomplish his purpose. In reply
to considerations intended to hold Dr. Whitman to his assigned work,
he said: 'I am not expatriated by becoming a missionary.'
"The idea of his withdrawal could not be entertained. Therefore, to
retain him in the Mission, a vote to approve of his making this
perilous endeavor prevailed."
In addition to this the Doctor undoubtedly intended to visit the
American Board and explain the mission work and its needs, and protest
against some of its orders. But in this there was no need of such
haste as to cause the mid-winter journey. In this note of Dr. Eells
the explanation is doubtless correct.
Dr. Spalding says: "Dr. Whitman's last remarks were, as he mounted his
horse for the long journey: 'If the Board dismisses me, I will do what
I can to save Oregon to the country. My life is of but little worth
if I can save this country to the American people.'"
They all regarded it a most perilous undertaking. They knew well of
the hardships of such a journey in the summer season, when grass could
be found to feed the stock, and men live in comfort in the open air.
But to all their pleadings and specifications of danger, Dr. Whitman
had but one reply, "I must go." As Dr. Eells says:--"They finally all
yielded when he said, 'I will go, even if I have to break my
connection with the American Board.'" They all loved him, and he was
too valuable a man for them to allow that.
Besides, they became thoroughly convinced that the man and the
missionary had received a call from a higher source than an earthly
one, and a missionary board should not stand in the way. It was
resolved that he must not be allowed to make such a journey alone. A
call was at once made, "Who will volunteer to go with him?" Again the
unseen power was experienced when General Lovejoy said: "I will go
with Dr. Whitman."
The man seems to have been sent for just such a purpose. Aside from
the fact that he was tired out with the long five months' ride upon
the plains, and had not been fully rested, no better man could have
been chosen. He was an educated, Christian gentleman, full of
cheerfulness, brave, cautious, and a true friend.
[Illustration: MRS. NARCISSA PRENTICE WHITMAN.]
Mrs. Whitman, in her diary, dwells upon this with loving
thoughtfulness, and her soul breaks forth in thanksgiving to the good
Father above, who has sent so good and true a companion for the long
and dangerous journey. She refers to it again and again that he will
have a friend in his hours of peril and danger, and not have to depend
entirely upon the savages for his society.
The conference passed a resolution, as stated, giving leave of absence
and fixed the time for his starting in "five days" from that day. It
was not often they had such an opportunity for letter-carriers, and
each began a voluminous correspondence.
The Doctor set about his active preparations, arranging his outfit and
seeing that everything was in order. The next day he had a call to see
a sick man at old Fort Walla Walla, and as he needed many articles for
his journey which could be had there, he went with this double
purpose. He found at the Fort a score or more of traders, clerks and
leading men of the Hudson Bay Company, assembled there. They were
nearly all Englishmen, and the discussion soon turned upon the treaty,
and the outlook, and as might be inferred, was not cheering to
Whitman. But his object was to gain information and not to argue.
The dinner was soon announced and the Doctor sat down to a royal
banquet with his jovial English friends. For no man was more highly
esteemed by all than was Whitman. The chief factor at Vancouver, Dr.
McLoughlin, from the very outset of their acquaintance, took a liking
to both the Doctor and Mrs. Whitman, and in hundreds of cases showed
them marked and fatherly kindness. Mrs. Whitman, in her diary,
recently published in the proceedings of the Oregon State Historical
Society, mainly in the years 1891 and 1893, often refers to the
fatherly kindness of the good old man whose home she shared for weeks
and months, and he begged her when first reaching Oregon to stop all
winter and wait until her own humble home could be made comfortable.
But while the company were enjoying their repast, an express messenger
of the company arrived from Fort Colville, three hundred and fifty
miles up the Columbia, and electrified his audience by the
announcement that a colony of one hundred and forty Englishmen and
Canadians were on the road.
In such a company it is easy to see such an announcement was exciting
news. One young priest threw his cap in the air and shouted, "Hurrah
for Oregon--America is too late, we have got the country."
Dr. Whitman carefully concealed all his intentions--in fact, this was
enjoined upon all the missionary band, as publicity would likely
defeat any hope of good results. Those who will take the pains to
read Mrs. Whitman's diary will notice how she avoids saying anything
to excite comment regarding the purposes of his winter visit to
Washington. In her letter to her father and mother she simply says: "I
expect my dear husband will be so full of his great work that he will
forget to tell you of our life in Oregon. He can explain what it is,"
etc.
It is said "Women cannot keep a secret," but here is an instance of
one that did. In his absence she visited Fort Vancouver, Astoria,
Oregon City, and other points. She is painstaking in keeping a regular
record of every-day events. But the secret of his mission to the
States was perfectly safe with the good wife.
As soon as the Doctor could with politeness excuse himself, he mounted
his pony and galloped away home, pondering the news he had received.
By the time he reached Waiilatpui he resolved there must be no
tarrying for "five days." On the morning of the third day after the
conference the spirit was upon him, and he took such messages as were
ready, and on October 3d, 1842, bade a long good-bye to his wife and
home, and the two men, their guide, and three pack mules, began that
ever memorable journey--escorted for a long distance by many Cayuse
braves.
Intelligent readers of all classes can easily mark the heroism of
such an undertaking under such circumstances, but the old plainsman
and the mountaineer who know the terrors of the journey, will point to
it as without a parallel in all history. It was surmised by most that
it was "A ride down to the valley of the shadow of death."
It is comforting and assuring of that power which sustains a believing
soul, to turn the pages of the diary of Mrs. Whitman, as day by day
she follows the little caravan with thought and prayer, and see with
what confidence she expresses the belief that an Almighty Arm is
guiding her loved one in safety through all perils.
It is easy to surmise the feelings of the Missionary band when they
sent in their letters and messages and learned that the Doctor was far
on his journey and had not waited the required limit of "five days."
The echo of dissatisfaction was heard even for years after, very much
to the disturbance of the good wife. And she in her diary expresses
profound thankfulness when, years after, the last vestige of criticism
ceased and the old cordiality was restored.
As for Dr. Whitman, with his whole being impressed with the importance
of his work and the need for haste, it is doubtful whether he even
remembered the "five days" limit.
The great thought with him was, I must reach Washington before
Congress adjourns, or all may be lost. The after disclosures convinced
the aggrieved Missionaries that Whitman was right, and they deeply
regretted some of the sharp criticisms they made and wrote East.
With horses fresh, the little company made a rapid ride, reaching Fort
Hall in eleven days. The road thus far was plain and familiar to every
member of the party. Prior to leaving home there had been rumors that
the Blackfoot Indians had suddenly grown hostile, and would make the
journey dangerous along the regular line of travel.
Upon reaching Fort Hall, Captain Grant, who seems to have been placed
at that point solely to discourage and defeat immigration, set about
his task in the usual way. Without knowing, he shrewdly suspected that
the old Missionary had business of importance on hand which it would
be well to thwart. He had before had many a tilt with Whitman and knew
something of his determination. It was Grant who had almost compelled
every incoming settler to forsake his wagon at Fort Hall, sacrifice
his goods, and force women and children to ride on horseback or go on
foot the balance of the journey.
Six years before he had plead with Whitman to do this, and had failed,
and Whitman had thus taken the first wagon into Oregon that ever
crossed the Rockies. Now he set about to defeat his journey to the
States. He told of the hopelessness of a journey over the Rocky
Mountains, with snow already twenty feet deep. He also informed him
that from recent advices the Sioux and Pawnee Indians were at war, and
it would be almost certain death to the party to undertake to pass
through their country.
This, all told for a single purpose, was partly true and partly false.
The writer, a few years after, when war broke out between the
Cheyennes and the Pawnees, passed entirely through the Cheyenne
country and was treated with the utmost courtesy and kindness by the
Cheyenne braves.
But Captain Grant's argument had more effect upon Whitman than upon a
former occasion. The Captain even began to hope that he had
effectually blocked the way. But he was dealing with a man of great
grit, not easily discouraged, and, we may say it reverently, an
inspired man. He had started to go to the States and he would continue
his journey.
Captain Grant was at his wits' end. He had no authority to stop
Whitman and his party; he carried with him a permit signed by "Lewis
Cass, Secretary of War," commanding all in authority to protect, aid,
etc.
The American Board was as careful in having all Oregon missionaries
armed with such credentials as if sending them to a foreign land,
and, in fact, there was no vestige of American government in Oregon in
that day. The Hudson Bay Company, wholly English, ruled over
everything, whether whites or Indians.
Much to Captain Grant's chagrin, Whitman, instead of turning backward,
set out southeast to discover a new route to the States. He knew in a
general way the lay of the mountain ranges, but he had never heard
that a white man's foot had passed that way. First east and south from
Fort Hall, in the direction of the now present site of Salt Lake City,
from thence to Fort Uintah and Fort Uncompahgra, then to Taos, Santa
Fe, to Bent's Fort, and St. Louis. This course led them over some very
rough mountainous country.
In his diary Gen. Lovejoy says: "From Fort Hall to Fort Uintah we met
with terribly severe weather. The deep snow caused us to lose much
time. Here we took a new guide to Fort Uncompahgra on Grand River in
Spanish country, which we safely reached and employed a new guide
there. Passing over a high mountain on our way to Taos we encountered
a terrible snow storm, which compelled us to seek shelter in a dark
defile, and although we made several attempts to press on, we were
detained some ten days. When we got upon the mountain again we met
with another violent snow storm, which almost blinded man and beast.
The pelting snow and cold made the dumb brutes well-nigh
unmanageable."
Finally the guide stopped and acknowledged he was lost and would go no
farther, and they resolved to return to their camp in the sheltered
ravine. But the drifting snow had obliterated every sign of the path
by which they had come, and the guide acknowledged that he could not
direct the way. In this dire dilemma, says Gen. Lovejoy, "Dr. Whitman
dismounted and upon his knees in the snow commended himself, his
distant wife, his missionary companions and work, and his Oregon, to
the Infinite One for guidance and protection.
"The lead mule left to himself by the guide, turning his long ears
this way and that, finally started plunging through the snow drifts,
his Mexican guide and all the party following instead of guiding, the
old guide remarking: 'This mule will find the camp if he can live long
enough to reach it.' And he did." As woodsmen well know this knowledge
of directions in dumb brutes is far superior often to the wisest
judgment of men.
The writer well remembers a terrible experience when lost in the great
forests of Arkansas, covered with the back water from the Mississippi
River, which was rapidly rising. Two of us rode for hours. The water
would grow deeper in one direction; we would try another and find it
no better; we were hopelessly lost. My companion was an experienced
woodsman and claimed that he was going in the right direction, so I
followed until in despair I called to him, and showed him the high
water mark upon the trees ten feet above our heads as we sat upon our
horses.
I remarked: "I have followed you; now you follow me. I am going to let
my old horse find the way out." I gave him the rein; he seemed to
understand it. He raised his head, took an observation, turned at
right angles from the way we had insisted was our course, wound around
logs and past marshes, and in two hours brought us safely to camp.
This incident of Dr. Whitman's mule, as well as all such, educates one
in kindness to all dumb animal life.
Reaching camp the guide at once announced that, "I will go no farther;
the way is impossible." "This," says Gen. Lovejoy, "was a terrible
blow to Dr. Whitman. He had already lost more than ten days of
valuable time." But it would be impossible to move without a guide.
Whitman was a man who knew no such word as fail. His order was: "I
must go on."
There was but one thing to do. He said to Gen. Lovejoy: "You stay in
camp and recuperate and feed the stock, and I will return with the
guide to Fort Uncompahgra, and get a new man."
And so Lovejoy began "recuperation," and recuperated his dumb animals
by collecting the brush and inner bark of the willows upon which they
fed. It is astonishing how a mule or horse on the plains can find food
enough to live on, under such conditions.
The writer had a pet mule in one of his journeys over the great
plains, which he would tie to a sage bush near the tent when not a
vestige of grass was anywhere in sight, and yet waking up in the night
at any hour I would hear Ben pawing and chewing. He would paw up the
tender roots of the sage and in the morning look as plump and full as
if he had feasted on good No. 2 corn.
"The doctor," says Lovejoy, "was gone just one week, when he again
reached our camp in the ravine with a new guide."
The storm abated and they passed over the mountain and made good
progress toward Taos.
Their most severe experience was on reaching Grand River. People who
know, mark this as one of the most dangerous and treacherous rivers in
the West. Its rapid, deep, cold current, even in the Summer, is very
much dreaded. Hundreds of people have lost their lives in it. Where
they struck the Grand it was about six hundred feet wide. Two hundred
feet upon each shore was solid ice, while a rushing torrent two
hundred feet wide was between.
The guide studied it, and said: "It is too dangerous to attempt to
cross." "We must cross, and at once," said Whitman. He got down from
his horse, cut a willow pole eight feet long, put it upon his
shoulder, and after remounting, said: "Now you shove me off." Lovejoy
and the guide did as ordered, and the General says: "Both horse and
rider temporarily went out of sight, but soon appeared, swimming. The
horse struck the rocky bottom and waded toward the shore where the
doctor, dismounting, broke the ice with his pole and helped his horse
out. Wood was plentiful and he soon had a roaring fire. As readers
well know, in a wild country where the lead animal has gone ahead, the
rest are eager to follow, regardless of danger, and the General and
his guide, after breaking the ice, had no difficulty in persuading
their horses and pack-mules to make the plunge into the icy flood.
They all landed in safety and spent the day in thoroughly drying out.
"Is the route passable?" asked Napoleon of his engineer. "Barely
possible, sire," replied the engineer. "Then let the column move at
once," said the Great Commander. The reader, in the incident of the
Grand and on the mountains, sees the same hero who refused to believe
the "impossible" of Captain Grant, at Fort Hall, and took that
"historic wagon" to Oregon. It looked like a small event to take a
wagon to Oregon, shattered and battered by the rocks and besetments of
the long three thousand mile journey. The good wife many times mourned
that the doctor should "Wear himself out in getting that wagon
through." "Yesterday," she says, "it was overset in the river and he
was wet from head to foot getting it out; to-day it was upset on the
mountain side, and it was hard work to save it." The dear woman did
not know it was an inspired wagon, the very implement upon which the
fate of Oregon would turn. Small events are sometimes portentous, and
the wagon that Whitman wheeled into Oregon, as we shall soon see, was
of this character.
One of the Providential events was, that the little company had been
turned aside from the attempt to make the journey over the direct
route and sent over this unexplored course, fully one thousand miles
longer. The winter of 1842-43 was very cold, and the snow throughout
the West was heavy. From many of these storms they were protected by
the ranges of high mountains, and what was of great value, had plenty
of firewood; while on the other route for a thousand miles they would
have had to depend mainly upon buffalo chips for fire, which it would
have been impossible to find when the ground was covered with snow. To
the traveler good fires in camp are a great comfort.
Even as it was, they suffered from the cold, all of them being
severely frosted. Dr. Whitman, when he reached Washington, was
suffering from frozen feet, hands and ears, although he had taken
every precaution to protect himself and his companions.
The many vexatious delays had caused not only the loss of valuable
time, but they had run out of provisions. A dog had accompanied the
party and they ate him; a mule came next, and that kept them until
they came to Santa Fe, where there was plenty. Santa Fe is one of the
oldest cities upon the continent occupied by English-speaking people.
The doctor, anxious for news, could find little there, and only
stopped long enough to recruit his supplies. He was in no mood to
enjoy the antiquities of this favorite resort of all the heroes of the
plains.
Pushing on over the treeless prairies, they made good headway toward
Bent's Fort on the headwaters of the Arkansas. The grass for the
horses was plentiful. That is one of the prime requisites of the
campaigner upon the plains. Had there been time for hunting, all along
their route they could have captured any amount of wild game, but as
it was, they attempted nothing except it came directly in the way.
They even went hungry rather than lose an hour in the chase.
There was one little incident which may seem very small, but the old
campaigner will see that it was big with importance. They lost their
axe. It was after a long tedious day crossing a bleak prairie, when
they reached one of the tributaries of the Arkansas River. On the
opposite side was wood in great plenty. On their side there was none.
The river was frozen over with smooth, clear ice, scarcely thick
enough to bear a man. They must have wood.
The doctor seized the axe, lay down on the ice and snaked himself
across on the thin crust. He cut loads of wood and pushed it before
him or skated it across and returned in safety; but unfortunately
split the axe helve. This they soon remedied by binding it with a
fresh deer skin thong. But as it lay in the edge of the tent that
night, a thieving wolf wanting the deer skin, took the axe and all,
and they could find no trace of it. The great good fortune was, that
such a catastrophe did not occur a thousand miles back. It is barely
possible it might have defeated the enterprise.
"When within about four days' journey of Bent's Fort," says Gen.
Lovejoy, "we met George Bent, a brother of Gen. Bent, with a caravan
on his way to Taos. He told us that a party of mountain men would
leave Bent's Fort in a few days for St. Louis, but said we could not
reach the fort with our pack animals in time to join the party.
"The doctor being very anxious to join it, and push on to Washington,
concluded to leave myself and guide with the packs, and he himself
taking the best animal, with some bedding and a small allowance of
provisions, started on alone, hoping by rapid traveling to reach the
fort before the party left. But to do so he would have to travel upon
the Sabbath, something we had not done before.
"Myself and guide traveled slowly and reached the fort in four days,
but imagine my astonishment when told the doctor had not arrived nor
been heard from. As this portion of the journey was infested by gangs
of gray wolves, that had been half starved during the snows and cold
weather, our anxiety for the doctor's safety was greatly increased.
Every night our camp would be surrounded by them coming even to the
door of the tent, and everything eatable had to be carefully stored
and our animals picketed where we could defend them with our rifles;
when a wolf fell he would instantly be devoured by his fellows.
"If not killed we knew the doctor was lost. Being furnished by the
gentlemen of the fort with a good guide I started to search for him
and traveled up the river about one hundred miles. I learned by the
Indians that a man who was lost had been there and he was trying to
find Bent's Fort. They said they had directed him down the river and
how to find the fort. I knew from their description that it was the
doctor, and I returned as rapidly as possible; but he had not arrived.
"Late in the afternoon he came in much fatigued and almost desponding.
He said that God had hindered him for traveling on the Holy Sabbath."
Says General Lovejoy: "This was the only time I ever knew him to
travel on Sunday."
The party which the doctor was to accompany to St. Louis had already
started, but was kindly stopped by a runner, and it was in camp
waiting his coming. Tired as he was, he tarried but a single night at
Fort Bent, and again with a guide hurried on to overtake the caravan.
This was a dangerous part of the journey. Savage beasts and savage men
were both to be feared.
In pioneer days the borders of civilization were always infested by
the worst class of people, both whites and Indians. This made the
doctor more anxious for an escort. Gen. Lovejoy remained at the fort
until he entirely recovered from his fatigue, and went on with the
next caravan passing eastward to St. Louis. In a letter to Dr.
Atkinson, published in full in the appendix to this volume, Gen.
Lovejoy recites many interesting incidents of this journey. Before
reaching St. Louis, Gen. Lovejoy immediately began to advertise the
emigration for the following May.
Dr. Barrows, in his fine volume, "Oregon--the Struggle for
Possession," says: "Upon the arrival of Dr. Whitman in St. Louis it
was my good fortune that he should be quartered as a guest under the
same roof and at the same table with me. Those interested in the news
from the plains, the trappers and traders in furs and Indian goods,
gathered about him and beset him with a multitude of questions.
Answering them courteously he in turn asked about Congress. Whether
the Ashburton Treaty had been concluded? and whether it covered the
Northwest Territory? The treaty he learned had been signed August 9th,
long before he left Oregon, and had been confirmed by the Senate and
signed by the President on November 10th, while he was floundering in
the snow upon the mountains."
But the Oregon question was still open, and only the few acres up in
Maine had been fixed. The question he was eager to have answered was:
"Is the Oregon question still pending, and can I get there before
Congress adjourns?" The river was frozen, and he had to depend upon
the stage, and even from St. Louis a journey to Washington in
midwinter at that time, was no small matter. But to a man like Whitman
with muscles trained, and a brain which never seemed to tire, it was
counted as nothing.
Dr. Barrows says: "Marcus Whitman once seen, and in our family circle,
telling of his business, he had but one, was a man not to be forgotten
by the writer. He was of medium height, more compact than spare, a
stout shoulder, and large head not much above it, covered with stiff
iron gray hair, while his face carried all the moustache and whiskers
that four months had been able to put on it. He carried himself
awkwardly, though perhaps courteously enough for trappers, Indians,
mules and grizzlies, his principal company for six years. He seemed
built as a man for whom more stock had been furnished than worked in
symmetrically and gracefully.
"There was nothing quick in his motion or speech, and no trace of a
fanatic; but under control of a thorough knowledge of his business,
and with deep, ardent convictions about it, he was a profound
enthusiast. A willful resolution and a tenacious earnestness would
impress you as marking the man.
"He wore coarse fur garments with buckskin breeches. He had a buffalo
overcoat, with a head hood for emergencies, with fur leggins and boot
moccasins. His legs and feet fitted his Mexican stirrups. If my memory
is not at fault his entire dress when on the street did not show one
inch of woven fabric."
One can easily see that a dress of such kind and upon such a man would
attract attention at the National Capital. But the history of the
event nowhere hints that the old pioneer suffered in any quarter from
his lack of fashionable garments. It was before the day of
interviewing newspapers, but the men in authority in Washington soon
learned of his coming and showed him every courtesy and kindness. He
would have been lionized had he encouraged it. But he had not
imperiled life for any such purpose. He was, after a four thousand
miles ride, there upon a great mission and for business, and time was
precious.
Almost in despair he had prayed that he might be enabled to reach the
Capital of the Nation and make his plea for his land, Oregon, before
it was too late. And here he was. Would he be given an audience? Would
he be believed? Would he succeed? These were the questions uppermost
in his mind.