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The Columbia River
Its History, Its Myths,
Its Scenery, Its Commerce
By William Denison Lyman
Professor of History in Whitman College,
Walla Walla, Washington
_With 80 Illustrations and a Map_
G. P. Putnam's Sons
New York and London
The Knickerbocker Press
1909
COPYRIGHT, 1909
BY
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
TO MY PARENTS
Horace Lyman and Mary Denison Lyman
PIONEERS OF 1849, WHO BORE THEIR PART IN LAYING THE
FOUNDATIONS OF CIVILIZATION UPON THE BANKS OF
THE COLUMBIA, THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED
BY THE AUTHOR
I see the living tide roll on,
It crowns with rosy towers
The icy capes of Labrador,
The Spaniard's land of flowers;
It streams beyond the splintered ridge
That parts the northern showers.
From eastern rock to sunset wave,
The Continent is ours.
HOLMES.
PREFACE
As one of the American Waterways series, this volume is designed to be a
history and description of the Columbia River. The author has sought to
convey to his reader a lively sense of the romance, the heroism, and the
adventure which belong to this great stream and the parts of the
North-west about it, and he has aimed to breathe into his narrative
something of the spirit and sentiment--a spirit and sentiment more easily
recognised than analysed--which we call "Western." With this end in view,
his treatment of the subject has been general rather than detailed, and
popular rather than recondite. While he has spared no pains to secure
historical accuracy, he has not made it a leading aim to settle
controverted points, or to present the minutiae of historical research and
criticism. In short, the book is rather for the general reader than for
the specialist. The author hopes so to impress his readers with the
majesty of the Columbia as to fill their minds with a longing to see it
face to face.
Frequent reference in the body of the book to authorities renders it
unnecessary to name them here. Suffice it to say that the author has
consulted the standard works of history and description dealing with
Oregon--the old Oregon--and its River, and from the voluminous matter
there gathered has selected the facts that best combine to make a
connected and picturesque narrative. He has treated the subject
topically, but there is a general progression throughout, and the
endeavour has been to find a natural jointure of chapter to chapter and
era to era.
While the book has necessarily been based largely on other books, it may
be said that the author has derived his chief inspiration from his own
observations along the shores of the River and amid the mountains of
Oregon and Washington, where his life has mainly been spent, and from
familiar conversations in the cabins of pioneers, or at camp-fires of
hunters, or around Indian tepees, or in the pilot-houses of steamboats. In
such ways and places one can best catch the spirit of the River and its
history.
The author gladly takes this opportunity of making his grateful
acknowledgments to Prof. F. G. Young, of Oregon University, for his
kindness in reading the manuscript and in making suggestions which his
full knowledge and ripe judgment render especially valuable. He wishes
also to express his warmest thanks to Mr. Harvey W. Scott, editor of the
_Oregonian_, for invaluable counsel. Similar gratitude is due to Prof.
Henry Landes of Washington University for important assistance in regard
to some of the scientific features of the first chapter.
W. D. L.
WHITMAN COLLEGE,
WALLA WALLA, WASH.,
1909.
CONTENTS
PAGE
PART I.--THE HISTORY
CHAPTER I
THE LAND WHERE THE RIVER FLOWS 3
CHAPTER II
TALES OF THE FIRST WHITE MEN ALONG THE COAST 33
CHAPTER III
HOW ALL NATIONS SOUGHT THE RIVER FROM THE SEA AND HOW THEY
FOUND IT 43
CHAPTER IV
FIRST STEPS ACROSS THE WILDERNESS IN SEARCH OF THE RIVER 69
CHAPTER V
THE FUR-TRADERS, THEIR BATEAUX, AND THEIR STATIONS 98
CHAPTER VI
THE COMING OF THE MISSIONARIES TO THE TRIBES OF THE RIVER 136
CHAPTER VII
THE ERA OF THE PIONEERS, THEIR OX-TEAMS, AND THEIR FLATBOATS 159
CHAPTER VIII
CONFLICT OF NATIONS FOR POSSESSION OF THE RIVER 179
CHAPTER IX
THE TIMES OF TOMAHAWK AND FIREBRAND 202
CHAPTER X
WHEN THE "FIRE-CANOES" TOOK THE PLACE OF THE LOG-CANOES 234
CHAPTER XI
ERA OF THE MINER, THE COWBOY, THE FARMER, THE BOOMER, AND THE
RAILROAD-BUILDER 249
CHAPTER XII
THE PRESENT AGE OF EXPANSION AND WORLD COMMERCE 265
PART II.--A JOURNEY DOWN THE RIVER
CHAPTER I
IN THE HEART OF THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 273
CHAPTER II
THE LAKES FROM THE ARROW LAKES TO CHELAN 290
CHAPTER III
IN THE LAND OF WHEAT-FIELD, ORCHARD, AND GARDEN 313
CHAPTER IV
WHERE RIVER AND MOUNTAIN MEET, AND THE TRACES OF THE BRIDGE
OF THE GODS 332
CHAPTER V
A SIDE TRIP TO SOME OF THE GREAT SNOW-PEAKS 352
CHAPTER VI
THE LOWER RIVER AND THE OCEAN TIDES 374
INDEX 399
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
ST. PETER'S DOME, COLUMBIA RIVER, 2300 FEET HIGH _Frontispiece_
Copyright, Kiser Photograph Co., 1902.
MOUNT ADAMS FROM THE SOUTH 74
Photo. by W. D. Lyman.
CAPT. ROBERT GRAY 76
THE "COLUMBIA REDIVIVA" 76
MOUNT HOOD FROM LOST LAKE 82
Photo. by E. H. Moorehouse.
ELIOT GLACIER, MT. HOOD 84
Photo. by E. H. Moorehouse.
ASTORIA IN 1845 116
From an old print.
ASTORIA, LOOKING UP AND ACROSS THE COLUMBIA RIVER 116
Photo. by Woodfield.
ONE OF THE LAGOONS OF THE UPPER COLUMBIA RIVER, NEAR GOLDEN B. C. 120
Photo. by C. F. Yates, Golden.
SADDLE MOUNTAIN, OR SWALLALOCHORT NEAR ASTORIA, FAMOUS IN INDIAN
MYTH 120
Photo. by Woodfield.
STEAMER "BEAVER," THE FIRST STEAMER ON THE PACIFIC, 1836 124
PORTLAND, OREGON, IN 1851 124
From an old print.
GRAVE OF MARCUS WHITMAN AND HIS ASSOCIATE MARTYRS AT WAIILATPU 210
Photo. by W. D. Chapman.
CAYUSE BABIES--1 212
Copyright by Lee Moorehouse, 1898.
CAYUSE BABIES--2 212
Copyright by Lee Moorehouse, 1898.
COL. B. F. SHAW, WHO WON THE BATTLE OF GRANDE RONDE IN 1856 222
By courtesy of Lee Moorehouse.
FORT SHERIDAN ON THE GRANDE RONDE, BUILT BY PHILIP SHERIDAN IN
1855 224
By courtesy of Lee Moorehouse.
TULLUX HOLLIQUILLA, A WARM SPRINGS INDIAN CHIEF, FAMOUS IN THE
MODOC WAR AS A SCOUT FOR U. S. TROOPS 228
By courtesy of Lee Moorehouse.
HALLAKALLAKEEN (EAGLE WING) OR JOSEPH, THE NEZ PERCE CHIEF 230
By T. W. Tolman.
CAMP OF CHIEF JOSEPH ON THE NESPILEM, WASH. 232
Photo. by T. W. Tolman, Spokane.
TIRZAH TRASK, A UMATILLA INDIAN GIRL--TAKEN AS AN IDEAL OF
SACAJAWEA 234
Photo. by Lee Moorehouse, Pendleton.
OREGON PIONEER IN HIS CABIN 256
Photo. by E. H. Moorehouse.
OLD PORTAGE RAILROAD AT CASCADES IN 1860 258
A LOG-BOOM DOWN THE RIVER FOR SAN FRANCISCO 258
Photo. by Woodfield.
LUMBER MILL AND STEAMBOAT LANDING AT GOLDEN, B. C. 260
Photo. by C. F. Yates.
A TYPICAL LUMBER CAMP 262
Photo. by Trueman.
A LOGGING RAILROAD, NEAR ASTORIA 264
Photo. by Woodfield.
NATURAL BRIDGE, KICKING HORSE OR WAPTA RIVER, AND MT. STEPHEN,
B. C. 276
Photo. by C. F. Yates.
SUNRISE ON COLUMBIA RIVER, NEAR WASHOUGAL 276
Copyright, Kiser Photograph Co., 1902.
LAKE WINDERMERE, UPPER COLUMBIA, WHERE DAVID THOMPSON'S FORT
WAS BUILT IN 1810 280
Photo. by W. D. Lyman.
MT. BURGESS AND EMERALD LAKE, ONE OF THE SOURCES OF THE WAPTA
RIVER, B. C. 282
Photo. by C. F. Yates.
BONNINGTON FALLS IN KOOTENAI RIVER, NEAR NELSON 284
Photo. by Allan Lean.
BRIDGE CREEK, A TRIBUTARY OF LAKE CHELAN, WASH. 286
Photo. by F. N. Kneeland, Northampton, Mass.
KOOTENAI LAKE, FROM PROCTOR, B. C. 288
Photo. by Allan Lean, Nelson.
LOWER ARROW LAKE, B. C. 290
Photo. by Allan Lean, Nelson.
BRIDAL VEIL FALLS ON COLUMBIA RIVER 292
Photo. by E. H. Moorehouse.
SHOSHONE FALLS, IN SNAKE RIVER, 212 FEET HIGH 294
Photo. by W. D. Lyman.
LAKE PEND OREILLE, IDAHO 296
Photo. by T. W. Tolman.
LAKE COEUR D'ALENE, IDAHO 296
Photo. by T. W. Tolman.
THE "SHADOWY ST. JOE," IDAHO 298
Photo. by T. W. Tolman.
ON THE COEUR D'ALENE RIVER, IDAHO 300
Photo. by T. W. Tolman.
GORGE OF CHELAN RIVER, THE OUTLET OF LAKE CHELAN 302
Photo. by T. W. Tolman, Spokane.
HEAD OF LAKE CHELAN--LOOKING UP STEHEKIN CANYON 304
Photo. by W. D. Lyman.
CASCADE PASS AT HEAD OF STEHEKIN RIVER, WASH. 306
Photo. by T. W. Tolman, Spokane.
DOUBTFUL LAKE, CASCADE RANGE, WASHINGTON, NEAR LAKE CHELAN 308
Photo. by T. W. Tolman, Spokane, Wash.
HORSESHOE BASIN THROUGH A ROCK GAP, STEHEKIN CANYON 310
Photo. by T. W. Tolman.
LAKE CHELAN 312
Photo. by W. D. Lyman.
A HARVEST OUTFIT, DAYTON, WASH. 314
_Sunset Magazine._
A COMBINED HARVESTER, NEAR WALLA WALLA 314
Photo. by W. D. Chapman.
INLAND EMPIRE SYSTEM'S POWER PLANT, NEAR SPOKANE, 20,000
HORSE-POWER 316
Photo. by T. W. Tolman.
LOWER SPOKANE FALLS 316
Photo. by T. W. Tolman.
CANYON OF THE STEHEKIN, NEAR LAKE CHELAN 318
Photo. by T. W. Tolman.
MEMORIAL BUILDING, WHITMAN COLLEGE, WALLA WALLA 320
Photo. by W. D. Chapman.
STARTING THE PLOUGHS IN THE WHEAT LAND, WALLA WALLA, WASH. 322
Photo. by W. D. Chapman, Walla Walla.
ON THE HISTORIC WALLA WALLA RIVER 324
Photo. by W. D. Chapman.
BLALOCK FRUIT RANCH OF A THOUSAND ACRES AT WALLA WALLA, WASH. 326
Photo. by W. D. Chapman.
WITCH'S HEAD, NEAR OLD WISHRAM VILLAGE. THE INDIAN SUPERSTITION
IS THAT THESE EYES WILL FOLLOW ANY UNFAITHFUL WOMAN 328
By courtesy of Lee Moorehouse.
CABBAGE ROCK, FOUR MILES NORTH OF THE DALLES 330
Photo. by Lee Moorehouse, Pendleton.
EAGLE ROCK, JUST ABOVE SHOSHONE FALLS IN SNAKE RIVER 332
Photo. by W. D. Lyman.
STEHEKIN CANYON, 5000 FEET DEEP 334
Photo. by W. D. Lyman.
STEAMER "DALLES CITY," DESCENDING THE CASCADES OF THE COLUMBIA 336
MEMALOOSE ISLAND, COLUMBIA RIVER 338
Photo. by E. H. Moorehouse.
HORSESHOE BASIN NEAR LAKE CHELAN, WASH. 340
Photo. by T. W. Tolman, Spokane.
CASTLE ROCK, COLUMBIA RIVER 342
Copyright, Kiser Photograph Co., 1902.
THE LYMAN GLACIER AND GLACIER LAKE IN NORTH STAR PARK, NEAR
LAKE CHELAN 344
Photo. by W. D. Lyman.
HUNTERS ON LAKE CHELAN, WITH THEIR SPOILS 346
Photo. by W. D. Lyman.
A MORNING'S CATCH ON THE TOUCHET, NEAR DAYTON, WASH. 346
_Sunset Magazine._
ONEONTA GORGE--LOOKING IN 348
Photo. by E. H. Moorehouse.
CAPE HORN, COLUMBIA RIVER--LOOKING UP 350
Photo. by E. H. Moorehouse, Portland.
LOOKING UP THE COLUMBIA RIVER FROM THE CLIFF ABOVE MULTNOMAH
FALLS, ORE. 352
Copyright, 1902, by Kiser Photograph Co.
SPOKANE FALLS AND CITY, 1886 354
Photo. by T. W. Tolman, Spokane.
SPOKANE FALLS AND CITY, 1908 354
Photo. by T. W. Tolman.
IN THE HEART OF THE CASCADE MOUNTAINS, ABOVE LAKE CHELAN, WASH. 360
Photo. by T. W. Tolman, Spokane.
BIRCH-TREE CHANNEL, UPPER COLUMBIA, NEAR GOLDEN, B. C. 362
Photo by C. F. Yates, Golden.
TYPICAL MOUNTAIN MEADOW, STEHEKIN VALLEY, WASH. 364
Photo. by T. W. Tolman.
HIGH SCHOOL, WALLA WALLA, WASH. 366
Photo. by W. D. Chapman, Walla Walla.
LAKE CHELAN 368
Photo. by F. N. Kneeland.
ON THE BANKS OF THE COLUMBIA RIVER, NEAR HOOD RIVER 370
Photo. by E. H. Moorehouse.
ROOSTER ROCK, COLUMBIA RIVER--LOOKING UP 372
Photo. by E. H. Moorehouse, Portland.
BAND OF ELK ON W. P. RESER'S RANCH, WALLA WALLA, WASH. 374
Photo. by W. D. Chapman.
OREGON CITY IN 1845 376
From an old print.
FORT VANCOUVER IN 1845 376
LONE ROCK, COLUMBIA RIVER, ABOUT FIFTY MILES EAST OF PORTLAND 378
Photo. by E. H. Moorehouse, Portland.
WILLAMETTE FALLS, OREGON CITY, ORE. 380
Photo. by E. H. Moorehouse.
AMONG THE BIG SPRUCE TREES, NEAR ASTORIA, OREGON 382
Photo. by Woodfield, Astoria.
PORTLAND IN 1908. MT. ST. HELENS SIXTY-FIVE MILES DISTANT 384
PORTLAND HARBOUR, OREGON 386
Photo. by E. H. Moorehouse, Portland.
FISH RIVER ROAD IN UPPER COLUMBIA REGION, B. C. 388
Photo. by Trueman, Victoria.
MULTNOMAH FALLS, 840 FEET HIGH, ON SOUTH SIDE OF COLUMBIA RIVER
ABOUT SIXTY MILES ABOVE PORTLAND 390
Photo. by E. H. Moorehouse.
CHINOOK SALMON, WEIGHT 80 POUNDS 392
Photo. by Woodfield, Astoria.
LAKE ADELA, NEAR HEAD OF COLUMBIA RIVER, B. C. 394
Photo. by C. F. Yates.
BRIDAL VEIL BLUFF, COLUMBIA RIVER, OREGON 396
Photo. by E. H. Moorehouse, Portland.
BAND OF KOOTENAI INDIANS, B. C. 398
Photo. by Allan Lean, Nelson.
MAPS _At End_
PART I
The History
CHAPTER I
The Land where the River Flows
Contrasts--The Two Islands--Uplift--Volcanic Action--Flood--Age of
Ice--Story of Wishpoosh and Creation of the Tribes--Outline of the
Mountain Systems--Peculiar Interlocking of the Columbia and the
Kootenai--The Cascade Range--The Inland Empire--The Valleys West of
the Cascade Mountains--The Forests--The Climate--The Native Races and
Some of their Myths--Story of the Kamiah Monster--The Tomanowas Bridge
at the Cascades--Origin of Three Great Mountains--The Chinook
Wind--Myths of the Unseen Life--Klickitat Story of the Spirit
Baby--Beauty of the Native Names.
Wonderfully varied though rivers are, each has a physiognomy of its own.
Each preserves its characteristics even in the midst of constant
diversity. We recognise it, as we recognise a person in different changes
of dress. The Ohio has one face, the Hudson another, and each keeps its
essential identity. The traveller would not confuse the Rhine with the
Danube, or the Nile with the Volga.
Even more distinctive than most rivers in form and feature is the
Columbia, the old Oregon that now hears far other sounds than "his own
dashings," the River of the West, the Thegayo, the Rio de los Reyes, the
Rio Estrachos, the Rio de Aguilar, the many-named river which unites all
parts of the Pacific North-west. It is to its records of romance and
heroism, of legend and history, as well as to its alternating scenes of
stormy grandeur and tranquil majesty that the reader's attention is now
invited. Though among the latest of American rivers to be brought under
the control of civilised men, the Columbia was among the earliest to
attract the interest of the explorers of all nations, and the struggles of
international diplomacy over possession were among the most momentous in
history. The distance of the Columbia from the centres of population and
the difficulty of reaching it made its development slow, and for this
reason its pioneer stage lasted longer than would otherwise have been the
case. In this part of its history there was a record of pathos, tragedy,
and achievement not surpassed in any of the annals of our country, while,
in its later phases, the North-west has had the sweep and energy of growth
and power characteristic of genuine American development. Finally, by
reason of scenic grandeur, absorbing interest of physical features, the
majesty and mystery of its origin in the greatest of American mountains,
the swift might of its flow through some of the wildest as well as some of
the most beautiful regions of the globe, and at the last by the peculiar
grandeur of its entrance into the greatest of the oceans, this "Achilles
of Rivers" attracts alike historian, scientist, poet, statesman, and lover
of nature.
* * * * *
"A land of old upheaven from the abyss," a land of deepest deeps and
highest heights, of richest verdure here, and barest desolation there, of
dense forest on one side, and wide extended prairies on the other; a land,
in brief, of contrasts, contrasts in contour, hues, productions, and
history;--such is that imperial domain watered by the Columbia River and
its affluents. To the artist, the poet, the scientist, and the sportsman,
this region presents noble and varied scenes of shore, of mountain, of
river, of lake, while to the romancer and historian it offers a wealth of
native legend and of record from the heroic ages of American history.
As a fit introduction to the picture of the land as it now appears, there
may be presented a brief record of the manner in which it was wrought into
its present form. Professor Thomas Condon of Oregon thought that the first
land to rise on the Pacific Coast was composed of two islands, one in the
region of the Siskiyou Mountains of Northern California and Southern
Oregon, and the other in the heart of what are now the Blue Mountains and
Saw-tooth Mountains of North-eastern Oregon, South-eastern Washington, and
Western Idaho. Other geologists have doubted the existence of the second
of these two islands.
Those islands, if both existed, were the nuclei of the Pacific Coast
region. The rock consisted of the earlier granite, sandstone, and
limestone crust of the earth. For long ages these two islands, washed by
the warm seas of that early age, and bearing a life now found in the
tropics, were slowly rising and widening their boundaries in all
directions.
Next, or perhaps as early, to respond to the pressure of the shrinking
crust of the earth and to appear above the sea, was the vast cordon of
pinnacled peaks which compose the present Okanogan and Chelan uplift,
granite and porphyry, broken by volcanic outflow. These peaks are veined
with gold, silver, and copper.
That first age of mountain uplift was ended by the coming on of the age of
fire. The granite upheaval of the Blue and the Cascade Mountains was blown
apart and cracked asunder by volcanic eruption and seismic force. A vast
outflow of basalt and andesite swept westward from the Blue Mountains to
meet a similar outflow moving eastward from the Cascades. Thus, throughout
the Columbia Basin, the surface is mainly of volcanic rock overlying the
shattered fragments of the original earth crust. At many points, however,
the primeval granite or sandstone surface was not covered, while at
frequent intervals the breaking forth of the fiery floods transformed
those original rocks into various forms of gneiss, porphyry, and marble.
But the greatest result of the age of volcanic outflow was the elevation
of the stupendous isolated snow peaks which now constitute so striking a
feature of Columbian landscapes.
With the close of the age of fire, the mountain chains were in place, as
they now stand, but the plains and valleys were not yet fashioned. Another
series of forces must needs come to elaborate the rude outlines of the
land. And so came on the third great age, the age of flood. The upheaval
of the mingled granite and volcanic masses of the Cascade and Blue
Mountains, while at the same time the Rockies were undergoing the same
process, imprisoned a vast sea over the region now known by Westerners as
the Inland Empire. In the depths of this sea the sediment from a thousand
torrents was deposited to fashion the smooth and level valleys of the
Yakima, the Walla Walla, the Spokane, and lesser streams, while a similar
process fashioned the valleys of the Willamette and other streams between
the Cascades and the Coast Mountains westward.
But while the age of flood was shaping the great valley systems, a fourth
age--the age of ice--was working still other changes upon the plastic
land. The mountains had been reared by upheaval and volcanic outflow to a
stupendous height. Then they became glaciated. The whole Northern
Hemisphere, in fact, took on the character of the present Greenland.
Enormous glaciers descended the flanks of the mountains, gouging and
ploughing out the abysmal canyons which now awe the beholder, and scooping
out the deeps where Chelan, Coeur d'Alene, Pend Oreille, Kaniksu, and
other great lakes delight the vision of the present day.
Such were the forces that wrought the physical features of the land where
the River flows. We do not mean to convey the impression that there was a
single age of each, and that they followed each other in regular
chronological order. As a matter of fact there were several eras of each,
interlocked with each other: upheaval, fire, flood, and frost. But as the
resultant of all, the Columbia Basin assumed its present form. The great
forces which have thus fashioned this land manifested themselves on a
scale of vast energy. Evidences of upheaval, fire, flood, and glacier are
exhibited on every side, and these evidences constitute a testimony of
geological history of the most interesting nature. Long before this record
of the rocks had found a white reader, the native red man had read the
open pages, and interpreted them in the light of his ardent fancy.
The Indian conception of the flood, involving also that of the creation
of the native tribes, is one of the most fantastic native legends. This is
the story of the great beaver, Wishpoosh, of Lake Kichelos. According to
this myth the beaver Wishpoosh inhabited that lake on the summit of the
Cascade Mountains, the source of the Yakima River.
In the time of the Watetash (animal people) before the advent of men, the
king beaver, Wishpoosh, of enormous size and voracious appetite, was in
the evil habit of seizing and devouring the lesser creatures and even the
vegetation. So destructive did he become that Speelyei, the coyote god of
the mid-Columbia region, undertook to check his rapacities.
The struggle only made the monster more insatiate, and in his wrath he
tore out the banks of the lake. The gathered floods swept on down the
canyon and formed another great lake in the region now known as the
Kittitas Valley.
But the struggle between Wishpoosh and Speelyei did not end, and the
former in his mad fury went on thrashing around in this greater lake. For
a long time the rocky barriers of the Umtanum restrained the flood, but at
last they gave way before the onslaughts of the wrathful beaver, and the
loosened waters swept on down and filled the great basin now occupied by
the fruit and garden ranches of the Cowiche, Natchees, and Atahnum. In
like fashion the restraining wall at the gap just below Yakima city was
torn out, and a yet greater lake was formed over all the space where we
now see the level plains of the Simcoe and Toppenish. The next lake formed
in the process covered the yet vaster region at the juncture of the
Yakima, Snake and Columbia rivers. For a long time it was dammed in by
the Umatilla highlands, but in process of time it, too, was drained by the
bursting of the rocky wall before the well-directed attacks of Wishpoosh.
The yet greater lake, the greatest of all, now formed between the Umatilla
on the east and the Cascade Mountains on the west. But even the towering
wall of the Cascades gave way in time and the accumulated floods poured on
without further hindrance to the open sea.
Thus was the series of great lakes drained, the level valleys left, and
the Great River suffered to flow in its present course. But there is a
sequel to the story of the flood. For Wishpoosh, being now in the ocean,
laid about him with such fury that he devoured the fish and whales and so
threatened all creation that Speelyei perceived that the time had come to
end it all. Transforming himself into a floating branch, he drifted to
Wishpoosh and was swallowed. Once inside the monster, the wily god resumed
his proper size and power; and with his keen-edged knife proceeded to cut
the vitals of the belligerent beaver, until at last all life ceased, and
the huge carcass was cast up by the tide on Clatsop beach, just south of
the mouth of the Great River. And now what to do with the carcass?
Speelyei solved the problem by cutting it up and from its different parts
fashioning the tribes as each part was adapted. From the head he made the
Nez Perces, great in council and oratory. From the arms came the Cayuses,
powerful with the bow and war-club. The Klickitats were the product of the
legs, and they were the runners of the land. The belly was transformed
into the gluttonous Chinooks. At the last there was left an indiscriminate
mass of hair and gore. This Speelyei hurled up the far distance to the
east, and out of it sprung the Snake River Indians.
Such is the native physiography and anthropogenesis of the land of the
Oregon.
If now one could rise on the pinions of the Chinook wind (the warm south
wind of the Columbia Basin, of which more anon), and from the southern
springs of the Owyhee and the Malheur could wing his way to the snowy
peaks in British Columbia, from whose fastnesses there issues the foaming
torrent of Canoe River, the most northerly of all the tributaries of the
Great River, he would obtain, in a noble panorama, a view of the land
where the River flows, in its present aspect, as fashioned by the
elemental forces of which we have spoken. But not to many is it given thus
to be "horsed on the sightless couriers of the air," and we must needs use
imagination in lieu of them. Even a map will be the safest guide for most.
Inspection of the map will show that the distance to which we have
referred covers twelve degrees of latitude, while the distance from the
source of the Snake River in the Yellowstone National Park to the Pacific
requires a span of fifteen degrees of longitude. The south-eastern part of
this vast area occupying Southern Idaho is mainly an arid plain; arid,
indeed, in its natural condition, but, when touched by the vivifying
waters in union with the ardent sun, it blossoms like a garden of the
Lord. Upon these vast plains where the volcanic dust has drifted for ages,
now looking so dismal in their monotonous garb of sage-brush, the millions
of the future will some time live in peace and plenty, each under his own
vine and apple-tree. On the eastern boundary, all the way from Western
Wyoming to Eastern British Columbia, stand cordons of stupendous
mountains, the western outposts of the great Continental Divide. These
constitute one spur after another, from whose profound canyons issues river
after river to swell the torrents of the turbid and impetuous Snake on its
thousand-mile journey to join the Columbia. Among these tributary streams
are the Payette, the Boise, the Salmon, and the Clearwater. Yet farther
north, beyond the system of the Snake, are the Bitter Root, the Missoula,
the Pend Oreille, the Spokane, and the Kootenai (we follow here the
American spelling, the Canadian being Kootenay), with almost innumerable
affluents, draining the huge labyrinths of the Bitter Root Mountains and
the Silver Bow.
Thus our northward flight carries us to the international boundary in
latitude 49 degrees.
Far beyond that parallel stretches chain after chain of divisions of the
great Continental Range, the Selkirks, the Gold Range, Purcell's Range,
sky-piercing heights, snow-clad and glaciated. Up and down these
interlocking chains the Columbia and the Kootenai, with their great lakes
and unexplored tributaries, seem to be playing at hide-and-seek with each
other. These rivers form here one of the most singular geographical
phenomena of the world, for so strangely are the parallel chains of
mountains tilted that the Kootenai, rising in a small lake on the western
flank of the main chain of the Canadian Rockies and flowing south, passes
within a mile of the source of the Columbia at Columbia Lake, separated
only by a nearly level valley. Connection, in fact, is so easy that a
canal once joined the two rivers. From that point of contact the Kootenai
flows far south into Idaho, then makes a grand wheel to the north-west,
forming Kootenai Lake on the way, then wheeling again in its tortuous
course to the west, it joins the greater stream in the midst of the
majestic mountain chains which stand guard over the Arrow Lakes. And
meanwhile where has the Columbia itself been journeying? After the parting
from the Kootenai it flows directly north-west between two stupendous
chains of mountains. Reaching its highest northern point in latitude 52
degrees, where it receives the Canoe River, which has come two hundred
miles or more from the north, it turns sharply westward, finding a
passageway cleft in the mountain wall. Thence making a grand wheel toward
the south, it casts its turbid floods into the long expanse of the Arrow
Lakes, from which it emerges, clear and bright, soon to join the Kootenai.
And how far have they journeyed since they parted? The Columbia about six
hundred miles, and the Kootenai hardly less, though having passed within a
mile of each other, flowing in opposite directions.
It will be readily seen from this description that the mountains which
feed the Columbian system of rivers on the east and north, are of singular
grandeur and interest. But now as we bear our way southward again we
discover that another mountain system, yet grander and of more curious
interest, forms the western boundary of the upper Columbia Basin. This is
the Cascade Range. Sublime, majestic, mysterious, this noble chain of
mountains, with its tiaras of ice, its girdles of waterfalls, its
draperies of forest, its jewels of lakes, must make one search long to
find its parallel in any land for all the general features of mountain
charm. But over and beyond those more usual delights of the mountains,
the Cascade Range has a unique feature, one in which it stands unrivalled
among all the mountains of the earth, with the exception possibly of the
Andes. This is the feature of the great isolated snow peaks, stationed
like sentinels at intervals of from thirty to sixty miles all the way from
the British line to California. There is nothing like this elsewhere on
the North American continent. The Sierras of California are sublime, but
their great peaks are not isolated monarchs like those of the Cascades.
The high Sierras are blended together in one mountain wall, in which no
single peak dominates any wide extended space. But in the long array of
the Cascades, five hundred miles and more from the international boundary
to the California line, one glorious peak after another uplifts the banner
and sets its regal crown toward sunrise or sunset, king of earth and air
to the border where the shadow of the next mountain monarch mingles with
its own. Hence these great Cascade peaks have an individuality which gives
them a kind of living personality in the life of any one who has lived for
any length of time within sight of them.
From the north, moving south, we might gaze at these great peaks, and find
no two alike. Baker--how much finer is the native name, Kulshan, the Great
White Watcher--first on the north; Shuksan next, the place where the
storm-winds gather, in the native tongue; then Glacier Peak, with its
girdle of ice, thirteen great glaciers; Stewart next with its dizzy horn
of rock set in a field of snow; then the great king-peak of all, Rainier,
better named by the natives, Takhoma, the fountain breast of milk-white
waters; and after this, Adams, or in the Indian, Klickitat, with St.
Helens or Loowit near at hand on the west; then, across the Great River,
Hood or Wiyeast, with its pinnacled crest; next southward, Jefferson with
its sharp chimney whose top has never yet been touched by human foot; yet
beyond, the marvellous group of the Three Sisters, each with its separate
personality and yet all together combining in one superb whole; then Mt.
Scott, Mt. Thielson, Diamond Peak, Mt. Pitt, and with them we might well
include the truncated cone of Mt. Mazama, once the lordliest of the chain,
but by some mighty convulsion of nature, shorn of crown and head, and now
bearing on its summit instead the most singular body of water, Crater
Lake, on all the American continent.
Fifteen is the number of the great peaks named, but there are dozens of
lesser heights, snow-crowned and regal. The great Cascade chain is,
therefore, the noblest and most significant feature of the topography of
the land of the Columbia. Between the Rocky Mountains and the Cascades
lies what is locally known as the Inland Empire, mainly a continuous
prairie or series of prairies and valleys, wheat land, orchard land,
garden land, fertile, beautiful, attractive, broken by an occasional
mountain spur, as the irregular mass of the Blue Mountains, but
substantially an inhabited land, reaching from Colville, Spokane, and the
Okanogan on the north to the Klamath valleys on the south, a region five
hundred miles long by two hundred wide, a goodly land, one difficult to
excel in all the potentialities of use for human needs.
Such are the distinguishing features of the Columbia Basin on the east
side of the Cascade Mountains.
To the west of those mountains is another vast expanse of interior
valleys, not so large indeed and not more fertile, but even more
beautiful, and by reason of earlier settlement and contiguity to the
ocean, better developed.
This series of valleys is enclosed between the Cascade Mountains and the
Coast Range, and in a general way parallels the Inland Empire already
described. But this statement should be qualified by the explanation that
North-western Washington consists of the Puget Sound Basin, which is a
distinct geographical system, while South-western Oregon consists of the
Umpqua and Rogue River valleys, and these valleys though commercially and
politically a part of the Columbia system, are geographically separate,
since they debouch directly into the Pacific Ocean. There is left,
therefore, for the Columbia region proper west of the Cascade Mountains,
the Willamette Valley in Oregon, and the valleys of the Lewis, Kalama, and
Cowlitz in Washington, with several smaller valleys on each side. The
Willamette Valley is the great distinguishing feature of this part of the
Columbia Basin. A more attractive region is hard to find. Mountains
snow-clad and majestic, the great peaks of the Cascades already described,
guard it on the east, while westward the gentler slopes of the Coast Range
separate it from the sea. Between the two ranges lies the valley, two
hundred miles long by about a hundred broad, including the foot-hills, a
succession of level plains, oak-crowned hills, and fertile bottoms. Not
Greece nor Italy nor the Vale of Cashmere can surpass this earthly
paradise in all the features that compose the beautiful and grand in
nature.
Geologists tell us that this Willamette region was once a counterpart of
Puget Sound, only with less depth of water, and that, as the result of
centuries of change, the old-time Willamette Sound has become the
Willamette Valley. It has now become the most thickly settled farming
region of the Columbia Basin, and, as its fitting metropolis, Portland
sits at the gateway of the Willamette and Columbia, the "Rose City,"
handsomest of all Western cities, to welcome the commerce of the world.
The valleys on the Washington side of the Columbia make up together a
region of great beauty, fertility, and productiveness, perhaps a hundred
miles square, and, though yet but partially developed, contain many
beautiful homes.
The larger part of the Columbia Valley west of the Cascade Mountains is,
in its natural state, densely timbered. Here are found "the continuous
woods where rolls the Oregon and hears no sound but his own dashings."
These great fir, spruce, cedar, and pine forests, extending a thousand
miles along the Pacific Coast from Central California to the Straits of
Fuca (and indeed they continue, though the trees gradually diminish in
size, for nearly another thousand miles up the Alaska coast), constitute
the world's largest timber supply. The demands upon it have been
tremendous during the past twenty years, and the stately growths of
centuries have vanished largely from all places in the near vicinity of
shipping points. Yet one can still find primeval woods where the coronals
of green are borne three hundred feet above the damp and perfumed earth,
and where the pillars of the wood sustain so continuous a canopy of
foliage that the sunlight is stopped or filters through only in pale and
watery rays. Hence all manner of vines and shrubs grow with almost tropic
profusion, though with weak and straggling stems.
Throughout the entire Pacific North-west the soil is of extraordinary
fertility. It is largely of volcanic dust as fine as flour and seems to
contain the constituents of plant life in inexhaustible abundance. Even in
the arid belts of Eastern Oregon, where to the eye of the stranger the
appearance is of a hopeless waste, those same elements of plant food
exist, and with water every manner of tree or vine or flower bursts
quickly into perfect life.
The climate of the Columbia Basin is a puzzle to the stranger, but in most
of its aspects it quickly becomes an equal delight. As is well known, the
Japan ocean current exercises upon the Pacific Coast an effect similar to
that of the Gulf Stream on Ireland and England. Hence the states of the
Columbia Valley are much warmer in winter than regions of the same
latitude on the Atlantic Coast or in the Mississippi Valley. Though the
average temperature is higher, yet it is cooler in summer on the Pacific
Coast than on the Atlantic. The Pacific climate has much less of extremes.
The State of Washington has about the same isothermal line as North
Carolina. There is, however, another feature of the Columbia climate not
so well known to non-residents, which is worthy of a passing paragraph.
This is the division of the country by the Cascade Mountains into a humid
western section and a dry eastern one. The mountain wall intercepts the
larger part of the vapour rising from the Pacific and flying eastward, and
these warm masses of vapour are condensed by the icy barrier and fall in
rain on the western side. Hence Western Oregon and Washington are damp and
soft, with frequent clouds and fogs. The rainfall, though varying much, is
in most places from forty to fifty inches a year. But east of the mountain
wall which has "milked the clouds," the air is clear and bright, the sun
shines most of the year from cloudless skies, and there seems to be more
of tingle and electricity in the atmosphere. The rainfall ranges from ten
to thirty inches, and in the drier parts vegetation does not flourish
without irrigation.
Any view of primeval Oregon would be incomplete without a glimpse of the
native race, that melancholy people, possessed of so many interesting and
even noble traits, whose sad lot it has mainly been to struggle against
the advent of a civilisation which they could not understand nor resist,
and before which they have melted away in pitiful impotency. But they have
at least had the highest dignity of defeat, for they have died fighting.
They have realised the conception of the Roman Emperor: "_Me stantem mori
oportet_."
The Oregon Indians have essentially the same characteristic traits as
other Indians, secretiveness, patience, vindictiveness, stoicism; and, in
their best state, fidelity and boundless generosity to friends.
The poor broken fragments of the once populous tribes along the Columbia
cannot but affect the present-day observer with pity. Most of the tangible
memorials of this fallen race have vanished with them. Not many of the
conquerors have been sympathetic or even rational in their treatment of
the Indians. Hence memorials of memory and imagination which might have
been drawn from them and treasured up have vanished with them into the
darkness. Yet many Indian legends have been preserved in one manner and
another, and these are sufficient to convince us that the native races are
of the same nature as ourselves. Some of the legends which students of
Indian lore have gathered, will, perhaps, prove interesting to the reader.
A quaint Nez-Perce myth accounts for the creation as follows: There was
during the time of the Watetash a monster living in the country of Kamiah
in Central Idaho. This monster had the peculiar property of an
irresistible breath, so that when it inhaled, the winds and grass and
trees and even different animals would be sucked into its devouring maw.
The Coyote god, being grieved for the destruction wrought by this monster,
made a coil of rope out of grass and with this went to the summit of
Wallowa Mountains to test the suction power of the monster. Appearing like
a tiny spear of grass upon the mountain, he blew a challenge to the
monster. Descrying the small object in the distance Kamiah began to draw
the air inward. But strange to say, Coyote did not move. "Ugh, that is a
great medicine," said the monster. Coyote now took his station upon the
mountains of the Seven Devils, a good deal closer, and blew his challenge
again. Again the Kamiah monster tried to breathe so deeply as to draw the
strange challenger into his grasp, but again he failed. "He is a very big
medicine," he said once more. And now Coyote mounted the top of the Salmon
River Mountains, somewhere near the Buffalo Hump of the present time, and
again the monster's breath failed to draw him. The baffled Kamiah was now
sure that this was most extraordinary medicine. In reality, Coyote had
each time held himself by a grass rope tied to the mountain.
Coyote now called into counsel Kotskots, the fox. Providing him with five
knives, Kotskots advised Coyote to force an entrance into the interior of
the monster. Entering in, Coyote found people in all stages of emaciation,
evidently having had their life gradually sucked out of them. It was also
so cold and dark in the interior that they were chilled into almost a
condition of insensibility. Looking about him, Coyote began to see great
chunks of fat and pitch in the vitals of the monster, and accordingly he
rubbed sticks together and started a fire, which being fed with the fat
and pitch, soon grew into a cheerful glow. Now, armed with his knives, he
ascended the vast interior until he reached the heart. He had already
directed Kotskots to rouse up and gather together all the emaciated
stowaways and provide that when the monster was cut open they should see
how to rush out into the sunlight. Great as was the monster Kamiah, he
could not stop the persistent hacking away at his heart which Coyote now
entered upon. When the fifth knife was nearly gone, the heart dropped down
and Kamiah collapsed into a lifeless mass. The people under the guidance
of Kotskots, burst out into the sunshine and scattered themselves abroad.
It must be remembered that these were animal people, not human. Coyote
called upon them to wait until he should have shown them a last wonder,
for, cutting the monster in pieces, he now began to fashion from the
pieces a new race of beings to be called men. The portion which he cut
from the head he flung northward, and of this was fashioned the Flathead
tribe. The feet he cast eastward, making them the Blackfeet. So he
continued, making new tribes here and there. But at the last Kotskots
interposed an objection. "You have made no people," he said, "for the
valley of the Lapwai, which is the most beautiful of all." Realising the
force of the suggestion, Coyote mixed the blood of the monster with water
and sprinkled it in a rain over the entire valley of the Clearwater. From
these drops of blood and water, the Nez Perce tribe was formed. The heart
of the monster is still to be seen by all travellers in that country,
being a heart-shaped hill in the valley of Kamiah.
Perhaps the most perfect and beautiful of all Indian fire myths of the
Columbia, is that connected with the famous "tomanowas bridge" at the
Cascades. This myth not only treats of fire, but it also endeavours to
account for the peculiar formation of the river and for the great snow
peaks in the near vicinity. This myth has various forms, and in order that
it may be the better understood, we shall say a word with respect to the
peculiar physical features in that part of the Columbia. The River, after
having traversed over a thousand miles from its source in the heart of the
great Rocky Mountains of Canada, has cleft the Cascade Range asunder with
a canyon three thousand feet in depth. While generally swift, that portion
between The Dalles and the Cascades is deep and sluggish. There are,
moreover, sunken forests on both sides visible at low water, which seem
plainly to indicate that at that point the river was dammed up by some
great rock slide or volcanic convulsion. Some of the Indians affirm that
their grandfathers have told them that there was a time when the river at
that point passed under an immense natural bridge, and that there were no
obstructions to the passage of boats under the bridge. At the present time
there is a cascade of forty feet at that point. This is now overcome by
government locks. Among other evidences of some such actual occurrence as
the Indians relate, is the fact that the banks at that point are gradually
sliding into the river. The prodigious volume of the Columbia, which here
rises from fifty to seventy-five feet during the summer flood, is
continually eating into the banks. The railroad has slid several inches a
year at this point toward the river and requires frequent readjustment. It
is obvious at a slight inspection that this weird and sublime point has
been the scene of terrific volcanic and probably seismic action. One
Indian legend, probably the best known of their stories, is to the effect
that the downfall of the bridge and consequent damming of the river was
due to a battle between Mt. Hood and Mt. Adams,--or, some say, Mt. St.
Helens--in which Mt. Hood hurled a great rock at his antagonist; but,
falling short of the mark, the rock demolished the bridge instead. This
event has been made use of by Frederick Balch in his story, _The Bridge of
the Gods_.
But the finer, though less known legend, which unites both the physical
conformation of the Cascades and the three great snow mountains of Hood,
Adams, and St. Helens, with the origin of fire, is to this effect.
According to the Klickitats, there was once a father and two sons who came
from the east down the Columbia to the region in which Dalles City is now
located, and there the two sons quarrelled as to who should possess the
land. The father, to settle the dispute, shot two arrows, one to the
north and one to the west. He told one son to find the arrow to the north
and the other the one to the west, and there to settle and bring up their
families. The first son, going northward, over what was then a beautiful
plain, became the progenitor of the Klickitat tribe, while the other son
was the founder of the great Multnomah nation of the Willamette Valley. To
separate the two tribes more effectively, Sahale, the Great Spirit, reared
the chain of the Cascades, though without any great peaks, and for a long
time all things went in harmony. But for convenience' sake, Sahale had
created the great tomanowas bridge under which the waters of the Columbia
flowed, and on this bridge he had stationed a witch woman called Loowit,
who was to take charge of the fire. This was the only fire in the world.
As time passed on Loowit observed the deplorable condition of the Indians,
destitute of fire and the conveniences which it might bring. She therefore
besought Sahale to allow her to bestow fire upon the Indians. Sahale,
greatly pleased by the faithfulness and benevolence of Loowit, finally
granted her request. The lot of the Indians was wonderfully improved by
the acquisition of fire. They began to make better lodges and clothes and
had a variety of food and implements, and, in short, were marvellously
benefited by the bounteous gift.
But Sahale, in order to show his appreciation of the care with which
Loowit had guarded the sacred fire, now determined to offer her any gift
she might desire as a reward. Accordingly, in response to his offer,
Loowit asked that she be transformed into a young and beautiful girl. This
was accordingly affected, and now, as might have been expected, all the
Indian chiefs fell deeply in love with the guardian of the tomanowas
bridge. Loowit paid little heed to any of them, until finally there came
two chiefs, one from the north called Klickitat and one from the south
called Wiyeast. Loowit was uncertain which of these two she most desired,
and as a result a bitter strife arose between the two. This waxed hotter
and hotter, until, with their respective warriors, they entered upon a
desperate war. The land was ravaged, all their new comforts were marred,
and misery and wretchedness ensued. Sahale repented that he had allowed
Loowit to bestow fire upon the Indians, and determined to undo all his
work in so far as he could. Accordingly he broke down the tomanowas
bridge, which dammed up the river with an impassable reef, and put to
death Loowit, Klickitat, and Wiyeast. But, inasmuch as they had been noble
and beautiful in life, he determined to give them a fitting commemoration
after death. Therefore he reared over them as monuments, the great snow
peaks; over Loowit, what we now call Mt. St. Helens; over Wiyeast, the
modern Mt. Hood; and, above Klickitat, the great dome which we now call
Mt. Adams.
Of the miscellaneous myths which pertain to the forces of nature, one of
the best is that accounting for the Chinook wind. All people who have
lived long in Oregon or Washington have a conception of that marvellous
warm wind which in January and February suddenly sends them almost summer
heat amid snow banks and ice-locked streams, and causes all nature to
rejoice as with a resurrection of spring time. Scarcely anything can be
imagined in nature more picturesque and dramatic than this Chinook wind.
The thermometer may be down nearly to zero, a foot of snow may rest like a
pall on the earth, or a deadly fog may wrap the earth, when suddenly, as
if by the breath of inspiration, the fog parts, the peaks of the mountains
may be seen half stripped of snow, and then, roaring and whistling, the
warm south wind comes like an army. The snow begins to drip like a pressed
sponge, the thermometer goes with a jump to sixty, and within two hours we
find ourselves in the climate of Southern California. No wonder the
Indians personified this wind. We personify it ourselves.
The Yakima account of the Chinook wind was to the effect that it was
caused by five brothers who lived on the Columbia River, not far from the
present town of Columbus. Now there is at rare intervals in this country a
cold north-east wind, which the Indians on the lower Columbia call the
Walla Walla wind because it comes from the north-east. The cold wind was
caused by another set of brothers. Both these sets of brothers had
grandparents who lived near what is now Umatilla. The two groups of
brothers were continually fighting each other, sweeping one way or the
other over the country, alternately freezing or thawing it, blowing down
trees and causing the dust to fly in clouds, and rendering the country
generally very uncomfortable. Finally, the Walla Walla brothers sent a
challenge to the Chinook brothers to undertake a wrestling match, the
condition being that those who were defeated should forfeit their lives.
It was agreed that Speelyei should act as umpire and should inflict the
penalty by decapitating the losers. Speelyei secretly advised the
grandparents of the Chinook brothers to throw oil on the wrestling ground
so that their sons might not fall. In like manner he secretly advised the
grandparents of the Walla Walla brothers to throw ice on the ground.
Between the ice and the oil it was so slippery that it would be hard for
any one to keep upright, but inasmuch as the Walla Walla grandfather got
ice on the ground last, the Chinook brothers were all thrown and killed.
The eldest Chinook had an infant baby at home, whose mother brought him up
with one sole purpose in view, and that was that he must avenge the death
of his father and uncles. By continual practice in pulling up trees he
became prodigiously strong, insomuch that he could pull up the largest fir
trees and throw them about like weeds. The young man finally reached such
a degree of strength that he felt that the time had come for him to
perform his great mission. Therefore he went up the Columbia, pulling up
trees and tossing them around in different places, and finally passed over
into the valley of the Yakima, where he lay down to rest by the creek
called the Setas. There he rested for a day and a night, and the marks of
his couch are still plainly visible on the mountain side.
Now, turning back again to the Columbia, he sought the hut of his
grandparents, and when he had found it, he found also that they were in a
most deplorable condition. The Walla Walla brothers had been having it all
their own way during these years and had imposed most shamefully upon the
old people. When he learned this, the young Chinook told his grandfather
to go out into the Columbia to fish for sturgeon, while he in the meantime
would lie down in the bottom of the boat and watch for the Walla Walla
wind. It was the habit of these tormenting Walla Walla wind brothers to
wait until the old man had got his boat filled with fish, and then they,
issuing swiftly and silently from the shore, would beset and rob him. This
time they started out from the shore as usual, but to their great
astonishment, just as they were about to catch him, the boat would shoot
on at miraculous speed and leave them far behind. So the old man landed
safely and brought his fish to the hut. The young Chinook then took his
grandparents to a stream and washed from them the filth which had gathered
upon them during all those years of suffering. Strange to say, the filth
became transformed into trout, and this is the origin of all the trout
along the Columbia.
As soon as the news became known abroad that there was another Chinook
champion in the field, the Walla Walla brothers began to demand a new
wrestling match. Young Chinook very gladly accepted the challenge, though
he had to meet all five. But now Speelyei secretly suggested to the
Chinook grandfather that he should wait about throwing the oil on the
ground until the ice had all been used up. By means of this change of
practice, the Walla Walla brothers fell speedily before the young Chinook.
One after another was thrown and beheaded until only the youngest was
left. His courage failing, he surrendered without a struggle. Speelyei
then pronounced sentence upon him, telling him that he must live, but
could henceforth only blow lightly, and never have power to freeze people
to death. Speelyei also decreed that in order to keep Chinook within
bounds he should blow his hardest at night time, and should blow upon the
mountain ridges first in order to prepare people for his coming. Thus
there came to be moderation in the winds, but Chinook was always the
victor in the end. And thus at the present time, in the perpetual flux and
reflux of the oceans of the air, when the north wind sweeps down from the
chilly zones of Canada upon the Columbia Basin, his triumph is but
transient. For within a few hours, or days at most, while the cattle are
threatened with destruction and while ranchers are gazing anxiously about,
they will discern a blue-black line upon the southern horizon. In a short
time the mountain ridges can be seen bare of snow, and deliverance is at
hand. For the next morning, rushing and roaring from the South, comes the
blessed Chinook, and the icy grip of the North melts as before a blast
from a furnace. The struggle is short and Chinook's victory is sure.
Nearly all our native races had a more or less coherent idea of a future
state of rewards and punishments. "The happy hunting ground" of the
Indians is often referred to in connection with the Indians of the older
part of the United States. Our Indians have ideas in general quite
similar. Some believe that there is a hell and a heaven. The Siskiyou
Indians in Southern Oregon have a curious idea similar to that of the
ancient Egyptians as well as of the Mohammedans. This is to the effect
that the regions of the blessed are on the other side of an enormously
deep chasm. To pass over this, one must cross on a very narrow and
slippery pole. The good can pass, but the bad fall off into empty space,
whence they reappear again upon the earth as beasts or birds.
The Klickitat Indians, living along The Dalles of the Columbia have a fine
legend of the land of spirits. There lived a young chief and a girl who
were devoted to each other and seemed to be the happiest people in the
tribe, but suddenly he sickened and died. The girl mourned for him almost
to the point of death, and he, having reached the land of the spirits,
could find no happiness there for thinking of her. And so it came to pass
that a vision began to appear to the girl at night, telling her that she
must herself go into the land of the spirits in order to console her
lover. Now there is, near that place, one of the most weird and funereal
of all the various "memaloose" islands, or death islands, of the Columbia.
The writer himself has been upon this island and its spectral and volcanic
desolation makes it a fitting location for ghostly tales. It lies just
below the "great chute," and even yet has many skeletons upon it. In
accordance with the directions of the vision, the girl's father made ready
a canoe, placed her in it, and passed out into the Great River by night,
to the memaloose island. As the father and his child rowed across the dark
and forbidding waters, they began to hear the sounds of singing and
dancing and great joy. Upon the shore of the island they were met by four
spirit people, who took the girl, but bade the father return, as it was
not for him to see into the spirit country. Accordingly the girl was
conducted to the great dance-house of the spirits, and there she met her
lover, far stronger and more beautiful than when upon earth. That night
they spent in unspeakable bliss, but when the light began to break in the
east and the song of the robins was heard from the willows on the shore,
the singers and the dancers fell asleep.
The girl, too, had gone to sleep, but not soundly like the spirits. When
the sun had reached the meridian, she woke, and now, to her horror, she
saw that instead of being in the midst of beautiful spirits, she was
surrounded by hideous skeletons and loathsome, decaying bodies. Around her
waist were the bony arms and skeleton fingers of her lover, and his
grinning teeth and gaping eye-sockets seemed to be turned in mockery upon
her. Screaming with horror, she leaped up and ran to the edge of the
island, where, after hunting a long time, she found a boat, in which she
paddled across to the Indian village. Having presented herself to her
astonished parents, they became fearful that some great calamity would
visit the tribe on account of her return, and accordingly her father took
her the next night back to the memaloose island as before. There she met
again the happy spirits of the blessed, and there again her lover and she
spent another night in ecstatic bliss. In the course of time a child was
born to the girl, beautiful beyond description, being half spirit and half
human. The spirit bridegroom, being anxious that his mother should see the
child, sent a spirit messenger to the village, desiring his mother to come
by night to the memaloose island to visit them. She was told, however,
that she must not look at the child until ten days had passed. But after
the old woman had reached the island, her desire to see the wonderful
child was so intense that she took advantage of a moment's inattention on
the part of the guard, and, lifting the cloth from the baby board, she
stole a look at the sleeping infant. And then, dreadful to relate, the
baby died in consequence of this premature human look. Grieved and
displeased by this foolish act, the spirit people decreed that the dead
should never again return nor hold any communication with the living.
In concluding this chapter we cannot forbear to call the attention of our
readers to the rare beauty of many of the native Indian names of
localities. These names always have some significance, and ordinarily
there is some such poetic or figurative conception involved in the name as
plainly reveals the fact that these rude and unfortunate natives have the
souls of poets beneath their savage exterior. It is truly lamentable that
some of the sonorous and poetic native names have been thrust aside for
the commonplace and oft-repeated names of Eastern or European localities
or the still less attractive names of discoverers or their unimportant
friends.
Think of using the names Salem and Portland for Chemeketa and Multnomah,
the native names. Chemeketa means "Here we Rest," or, some say, the "Place
of Peace," for it was the council ground of the Willamette Valley Indians.
But the Methodist missionaries thought that it would have a more Biblical
sound and conduce to the spiritual welfare of the natives to translate the
word into its equivalent, Salem. So they spoiled the wild native beauty of
the name for all time. Multnomah means "Down the Waters." But two Yankee
sea captains, with a sad deficiency of poetry in them, tossed up a coin to
decide whether to employ the name of Boston or Portland, the native town
of each, and the latter won the toss.
Oregon has been more fortunate than Washington in its State name, for it
has the unique name, stately and sonorous, which old Jonathan Carver first
used for the River and which is one of the most distinctive of all the
names of States. But whether Oregon is Indian, Spanish, French, or a
corruption of something else, or a pure invention of Carver's is one of
the mooted points in our history. Idaho, too, has one of the most
mellifluous of names, meaning the "Gem of the Mountains."
All three States have many beautiful and appropriate names of rivers,
lakes, mountains, and cities. Such are Chelan, "Beautiful Water";
Umatilla, "The Wind-blown Sand"; Walla Walla, "Where the Waters Meet";
Shuksan, "The Place of the Storm Winds"; Spokane, "The People of the Sun";
Kulshan, "The Great White Watcher"; Snoqualmie, "The Falls of the Moon
God." Seattle derives its name from the old chief Seattle, or Sealth.
The most bitterly disputed name of all is Tacoma _vs._ Rainier, as the
name of the greatest of our mountains. The name of Rainier was derived by
Vancouver from that of an officer of the British navy, a man who never
knew anything of Oregon and had no part or lot in its discovery or
development. Tacoma, or more accurately, _Takhoma_ (a peculiar guttural
which we cannot fully indicate), was the native Indian name, meaning,
according to some, "The Great White Mountain," and according to others
meaning "The Fountain-breast of Milk-white Waters."
With these glances at the character of the land, and its native
inhabitants, we are now ready to see how they became known to the world.