OMELETS AND ARROWS——BIG STEAM-BOILERS.
An Indian game of ball is not exactly like America’s great game of base
ball. It resembles, somewhat, the old game of shindy or bandy. The field
is one-fourth of a mile in length, and one-eighth in width. Stakes are
planted at either end, and also in the middle. The players pair off until
all are chosen who desire to play. Captains are elected who command the
players of each side, and take their stations at the middle stakes,
arranging their men on either side, each of whom is provided with a club
three feet in length, having a short crook at the lower end. The ball is
fashioned out of a tough knot of wood, and is about three inches in
diameter, and burnt by fire until it is charred slightly, thus making it
of black color. This game is called “ko-ho,” and is won by the party who
succeeds in knocking the ball with the club to the home base at the
opposite end of the ground.
A game of “ko-ho” attracts much attention; old and young, deaf, dumb, and
blind, all go to witness the sport; the latter, probably, to hear the
boisterous shouts that attend the playing. Sometimes it is made the
occasion for gambling, and then the excitement becomes intense.
Another game is played, with two pieces of wood six inches long and about
one inch in diameter, securely connected by a thong of rawhide, about
four inches apart; the game, as in “ko-ho,” being to toss this plaything
with straight clubs to a home base; the parties struggling as in the other
game. Foot-ball is not uncommon, and great contests are had over this game
also.
Civilized American gambling cards are common, and are played in games that
have no existence among white people; though Indians are expert in all
common games, and become, like their white brother, infatuated, and gamble
with desperation. Gambling seems to be a passion among them. It is not
uncommon to see the younger men of tribes that are uncivilized, seated on
the ground, and, with a blanket spread over their limbs, all pointing
toward a common centre, gambling with small sticks of wood, the parties
alternately mixing their hands under the blanket, changing the sticks from
one hand to the other while they sing a low melody; and, when withdrawing
the hands, the other Indians point to the hand they suppose to be the
holder of the sticks, thus indicating the one selected as the winning
hand. When the bets are all made the holder opens both hands, and thus
declares the result. The favorite sport of the Indians is horse-racing;
but, like other people, they gamble on almost everything. Among them are
natural professional gamblers. This passion is a fruitful source of
poverty; and many complaints are made by young, green ones, against
_red_-legged sharps.
An Indian woman filed a complaint against “Long John,” an Indian gambler,
charging him with having swindled her son, a boy of eighteen or twenty
years of age, out of a number of horses that belonged to the family. She
asserted that they were poor; that the loss was too much to bear in
silence, and that, since her son was a boy, not a man, “Long John” ought
to return the horses. This famous gambler was ordered to appear. The case
was investigated. “Long John” pleaded guilty as charged in the indictment,
but offered the old Indian law as an excuse. He finally proposed to return
the horses, on condition that the boy would abandon the habit. The boy
promised; the property was returned; and the old woman went away happy in
the possession of her restored fortune; for it was to her what business
and home are to wealthy people. Under the new law gambling is prohibited
by a fine; but the Indians find ways to avoid the law, and gambling is
now, and will continue to be, common among them.
These people have a beautiful country, with a cold climate, being at an
altitude of four thousand feet above the sea level. Snows of two to four
feet deep are not uncommon. The rivers and lakes are well supplied with
fish, the mountains with game, the land with berries and wild roots.
Big Klamath marsh is situated twenty miles north of the Great Klamath
lake. It is six miles wide and twenty long, and receives its water from
the south side of the Blue mountains. This marsh is covered with a growth
of pond-lilies, that furnish immense supplies of wo-cus (seed of lily). It
is a great rendezvous for several tribes who come to gather wo-cus. The
main stem of this plant first blossoms on the top of the water, and, as
the seasons advance, the flower matures and rises above the surface one or
two feet, and forms a large pod, of four inches in length and three in
diameter. The Indians go out among the lilies in canoes, and gather the
bowls or pods while green, spread them out in the sun, and when cured they
are beaten with sticks until the seeds fall out. These are put in sacks
and carried home, cached (buried in cellars) until required for use. Then
the seeds are thrown into a shallow basket, with live coals of fire, and
roasted, after which it is ground by hand on flat rocks.
It is a nutritious food, and, when properly prepared, not unpalatable. The
Klamaths use it in soups, and often prepare it by mixing like flour into
cakes, which they bake in the ashes. This article of wo-cus is abundant,
available, and altogether sufficient to furnish subsistence for all the
Indians in Oregon. To this wo-cus field the natives have for generations
past gone for supplies, and in the mean time to exchange slaves, gamble,
and hold great councils. Many stirring scenes have been enacted at this
place that would furnish foundation for romantic story or bloody tragedy.
The lakes of Klamath are great resorts for the feathery tribes, which come
with the spring and sojourn through the summer. The people luxuriate on
the eggs of these wild fowls. They go out into the tall tule (grass) in
canoes, and collect them in large quantities. _“The egg season” lasts
until the hatching season is over_, the Indians cooking unhatched birds,
and eating them with as much avidity and as little thought of indecency as
New England people cook and eat clams, oysters, or herrings.
The young fowls are captured in nets. The arrangement is quite cunning,
and, although primitive in construction, evinces some inventive genius. A
circular net is made three feet in diameter, and to the outer edge are
attached eight or ten small rods of half-inch diameter, and about fifteen
inches in length; three inches from the lower end, which is sharpened to a
point, the net is attached. The upper end of the rods are bevelled on one
side, and inserted into a rude socket, in the end of a shaft ten feet
long.
Armed with this trap, the hunter crawls on the ground until he is within
safe distance of the mother-bird and her little flock, when, suddenly
springing up, the old birds, geese or ducks, as the case may be, fly away,
while the little ones flee toward the water. The Indian launches the shaft
with the net attached in such a way that the net spreads to its utmost
size, the sharpened points of the rods pierce the ground, and, the upper
end having left the socket on the shaft, stand in circular row, holding
the net and contents to the ground.
The Klamath mode of taking fish is peculiar to the Indians of this lake
country. A canoe-shaped basket is made, with covering of willow-work at
each end, leaving a space of four feet in the middle top of the basket.
This basket is carried out into the tules that adjoin the lakes, and sunk
to the depth of two or three feet. The fishermen chew dried fish eggs and
spit them in the water over the basket, until it is covered with the eggs,
and then retire a short distance, waiting until the whitefish come in
large numbers over the basket, when the fishermen cautiously approach the
covered ends, and raise it suddenly, until the upper edge is above the
water, and thus entrap hundreds of fish, that are about eight inches in
length. These are transferred to the hands of the squaws, and by them are
strung on ropes or sticks and placed over fires until cured, without salt,
after which they are stored for winter use. This fish is very oily and
nutritious, and makes a valuable food. Indeed, this country is more than
ordinarily fruitful, and abounds in resources suited to Indian life.
The lakes are well supplied with various kinds of trout. They are taken in
many ways; mostly, however, with hook and line. I remember, on one
occasion, going to a small slough making out of the lake among the tules.
Being prepared with American equipment of lines and flies, I was sanguine
of success; but I was doomed to disappointment so far as catching trout
with fly-hooks was concerned. I finally succeeded in capturing a pocketful
of large black army-crickets. The first venture with this bait was
rewarded by a fine trout of six pounds’ weight. In one hour and a half I
had twenty-four fish, whose aggregate weight was one hundred and four
pounds. They were mostly golden trout, a species peculiar to Klamath lake.
They are similar to other trout, except in the rich golden color of their
bodies, and in the shape of their fins. Silver trout are sometimes caught
also, they taking their name from their silver sides and the color of
their flesh. Lake trout, another species, are very dark; they are sharp
biters, and very game when hooked. Salmon trout, as the name indicates,
resemble salmon in every way; so much so that none but an expert could
distinguish the two.
Still another kind of the trout family are also in abundance, called dog
trout. They live on the younger fish of their own species; do not run in
schools, but solitary and alone, devouring the small ones. I have caught
them with the tails of little fish sticking in their mouths. Brook trout
may be found in the smaller streams; they are identical with those of New
England.
The wild game consists of deer and elk, which are still abundant and
furnish subsistence; and, until these people sold their birthrights and
received in exchange therefor clothing and blankets,——a mere mess of
pottage,——afforded material for warming their bodies. These sources of
supply, together with the wild fowls, which congregate in innumerable
quantities, all go to make up a country well adapted to wild Indian life,
requiring but reasonable exertion to secure subsistence and clothing.
Although the country is high and cold, and the major portion covered in
winter with deep snows, there are small valleys and belts of country where
snow never lies on the ground for any considerable length of time, and the
stock cattle and horses live through the winter without care.
When the railroad shall have been built, connecting the lake country with
the outside world, it will afford large supplies of fish, game, wild
fowls, eggs, feathers, ice, and lumber of the choicest kinds. Already has
the keen eye of the white man discovered its many inducements and tempting
offers of business.
Big Klamath lake is twenty miles wide and forty miles long; a most
beautiful sheet of water, dotted with small islands. Its average depth is,
perhaps, forty feet, surrounded on two sides with heavy forests of timber;
on the others, with valleys of sure and productive soil, when once
science shall have taught the people how to accommodate the agriculture to
the climate. This lake has a connection with those below, called Link
river, a short stream of but four miles, through which vast volumes of
water find outlet, over sweeping rapids, falling at the rate of one
hundred feet to the mile.
The power that wastes itself in Link river would move machinery that would
convert the immense forests into merchandise, and put music into a million
spindles, giving employment to thousands of hands who are willing to toil
for reward.
Nature has also favored this wonderful country with steam-power beyond
comparison; great furnaces under ground, fed by invisible hands, send the
steam through rocky fissures or escape-pipes to the surface. Near Link
river, two of these escape-pipes emit the stifling steam constantly.
Approaching cautiously, a sight may be had of the boiling waters beneath.
Lower down the hill it arises in a stream, sufficient to run a saw-mill,
coming out boiling hot, and flowing away in rippling current. Along the
banks of this stream flowers bloom the year round, and vegetation is ever
green for several rods from the banks. The scene from the ridge on the
north that overlooks Link valley is one of rare beauty.
Standing in snow two feet deep, on a cold morning in December, 1869, my
eyes first took in the landscape. Surrounded by lofty pines, and, looking
southward, we caught sight of the Lost river county, the home of the
Modocs, bathed in sunshine, clear, cold sunshine; the almost boundless
tracts of sage-brush land, stretching away to the foot of the Cascade
mountains on the right, until sage-brush plain was lost in pine-wood
forest. On the left front we caught sight of Tu-le lake, lying calmly
beneath its crystal covering of glittering ice; and, still left,
Lost-river mountains, and beside them the stream whose water drank up the
blood of many battles in times past. Following its line toward its source,
we see a mountain cleft in twain to make passage for the waters of Clear
lake, after they have tunnelled Saddle mountains for ten miles, and come
again to human sight.
We had been so entertained with the splendor of the winter scene, that we
had overlooked its grandest feature, until our fretful horses, which had
caught sight of it before we had, became restless and impatient to bathe
their icy hoofs in the beautiful valley at our feet, and refused longer to
wait for us to paint on our memory the panorama.
Dismounting, we, too, caught sight of one of nature’s wonderful freaks.
Down below us, in the immense amphitheatre, we discovered columns of steam
rising from the smooth prairie hill-side, ascending in fantastic puffs,
and mixing with the atmosphere; sometimes cut off, by sudden gusts of cold
winds, into minute clouds, that swing out and lose themselves in strange
company of fiercer breath from the mountains covered with snow and ice.
Look again to the right, and see the constant steam vapor that comes with
hot breath from the boiling spring, where it runs in grandeur, and
gradually warms the soil and shrubbery that surrounds its channel.
Following the curve of this stream, see the clouds of steam decrease as it
flows out on the plain, until, at last, its warm breath is lost to sight
in the high tule grass of Lower Klamath lake. Come back along the line
and see the fringe of grass and flowers that exult in life, despite the
winter’s cold; and other of nature’s children, too, are standing with feet
in the soft banks, and inhaling the warm breath. See the long line of
sleek cattle and horses that have driven away the mule, deer and antlered
elk, and now claim mastership of what God has done for this strange
valley. Even dumb brutes enjoy this refuge from the cold storms of the
plains; thus cheating old winter out of the privilege of punishing them.
Yielding to the importunity of our restless steed, we remount, and, giving
rein, are carried rapidly down the mountain side, at a pace that would be
dangerous on clumsy eastern ponies, until reaching the valley, and feeling
the soft turf beneath us, we improve the invitation to warm our hands at
this gentle outlet to one of nature’s seething caldrons.
Gathering a bouquet of wild flowers from this fairy garden, surrounded by
snows and ice, we resume our journey, for we are now bound for the home of
Captain _Jack_.