History of Early Pioneer Families of Hood River, Oregon.
Compiled by Mrs. D.M. Coon

RECOLLECTIONS OF MID-COLUMBIA INDIANS
By H.C. Coe

     When we made our home in Hood River in 1854, a good many Indians were located there. I never counted them nor did I ever know of any enumeration of them having been made, but there must have been some 15 or 16 camps, and five or six at what was known as "Polalla Illah" (Powder or Sand Land), now known as Ruthton and later taken up by John Marden and Amos Underwood.
     Each camp contained from 10 to 15 adults. These Indians were undoubtedly an overflow from the Willamette or Chinook tribes which had extended as far east as The Dalles on the south side of the Columbia river. At the Cascades they had crossed to the Washington side, but east of there the land was claimed by the Klickitats and the Wasco Indians (as the local tribe was called), religiously refrained from encroaching on the territory of the stronger tribe.
     The Wasco Indians as well as the Chinook Indians were known as fish eaters, and were far inferior to their northern neighbors. They were, as a rule, a squat, ill favored, filthy crowd, reeking in dried salmon fumes and alive with vermin of various kinds.
     I have often seen mothers picking lice from their offspring and cracking them in their teeth, their reason being "retaliation", or as one squaw said, "Claska mucimuc nesika, Nesika mucimuc claska". ("They eat us, we eat them".)
     Slavery was common among the Indians. There were a number of slaves when we first came here, but I do not think they fell to the share of the heirs at the death of their masters. The general custom being to free them. The slave was generally obtained from the Snake Indians, who lived east of the Blue Mountains, a cowardly set of cut-throats and robbers who in large bands occasionally made forays on the tribes in southeastern Oregon such as the Klamaths, Watwashes and Modocs, capturing hunting or fishing parties and isolated families, killing the adults and taking the children captives, selling them to the northern tribes. And truly they were slaves, owned body and soul by their masters. Even their lives were in the hands of their owners. The slaves were required to do all the menial work, such as bringing the wood and water and digging roots. They were hired out to the whites to labor in the fields and gather fruit and vegetables. The most profitable trade, however, came from the traffic in girls, who were required to sell themselves to whoever wanted them.
     Old Wallachin, chief of the Polalla tribe, once told me that from the services of two girls belonging to the Watwash tribe, he had taken in over $l,000 in two seasons. One of these girls will be remembered by many pioneers as "Old Jenny' who, after the death of old Wallachin, married another slave named Jack. They both died in Hood River many years ago.
     Marriages: The marriage ceremony was very brief, and, as a rule very elastic. Yet I am free to say that a separation was exceedingly rare. Girls were sold to the highest bidder and polygamy was practiced by any one who could afford to indulge in it. It was a matter of curiosity to the early pioneers to learn why, as a rule, the old and in many cases, decrepit buck had a young and comely wife or wives, while some stalwart young man might be married to a woman old enough to be his grandmother. The explanation, however, was simple the old man had the price, and the luxury was his, while the young man had to take the faded flowers. The bargain having been made and the purchase price paid, the bride with her belongings usually just the clothes she wore followed her lord and master to his wigwam either on foot or horseback, and his home was her home until his majesty chose to make some change, which indeed was seldom. An expensive piece of property as a handsome young woman was not to be discarded without provocation, and, as I have said before, the marriage tie was rarely broken, even though the wife's beauty had fled.
     But the husband was, as in the case of the slave, the lord and master. The wife of his purchase was just as much a slave as was the poor Qatwash captive. The power of the slave master was his, and there was none to question his act should that act carry his wife's spirit to the Happy Hunting Ground, unless indeed which is unusual and rare in the same tribe, a powerful relative could scent a possible gain by demanding reparation for the loss. Corporal punishment was very frequently resorted to. It was administered as a cure-all for all misdemeanors -- infidelity, disobedience and laziness.
     An instance of wife beating that had serious results occurred in Rood River in the early days. The camps had no regular thief, but a man named "Bael" had two wives, one an ugly coarse grained old woman whose face was partially paralyzed but who had the distinction of having borne him a son. The other was a good looking woman, but without issue. he young woman had for some reason, unknown to us, been so severely beaten that her arm was broken. She was then kicked out of doors one cold, rainy night, and was finally taken in charge of by a brother who secured the services of a prominent medicine man. The woman, however, died. The brother, instead of shooting the guilty Bael, shot the medicine man in his own camp. The matter having thus been satisfactorily settled, peace again reigned.
     The question of having the authorities at The Dalles take the matter up, was talked over, but the court, or what there was of law in those days, refused to interfere, claiming no jurisdiction over the Indians.
     Religion: The Indians have many superstitions. In fact their religion is made up of a mass of superstitions. They believe in a future life a happy hunting ground with fishing included. Their idea of the Great Spirit, or Tomannawas is vague and indefinite. He is here and he is there sometimes on Mt. Tacoma, on Mt. Adams or on Mt. St. Helens, or there may be one on each of them.
     Many animals are endowed with supernatural powers. Spelia, the lowly coyote, was formerly a human being, a fact that accounted for his remarkable sagacity. According to the Yakimas he was the Mercury of the great Meouwah who lived on Mt. Tacoma and who in times pant sent his dread commands to the tribes of the kingdom.
     The king of the Salmon was also a remarkable character. On the north side of Memaloose Island there is a natural tunnel under a spur of rock extending out into the channel that is accounted for by the following length. The Indians had been at war all over the country east of the Cascades. The great Meouwah on Mt. Tacoma had tired of their continual bickerings and had sent Spelia out to all warring tribes with the command to cease their warfare and live in peace. The faithful Spelia, swift footed, delivered his master's message to unheeding ears and the offended spirit determined to starve them into submission. So he directed Spelia to station spirit guards with salmon spears on Memaloose and adjacent islands, with orders to spear any salmon that attempted to pass up the stream.
     Thus the supply of salmon was cut off and great numbers of the fish collected below the islands. So matters stood. The salmon continued to collect and the Indians above grew hungrier, but still quarreling. Finally the salmon, in their desperation, sent an urgent message to their king to come from the northern waters and direct them in their extremity. Unless they could pass on above, they could not spawn, and the race would become extinct. Soon the king of the salmon arrived and looked the situation carefully over. The spirit guards were there and vigilant but the king had solved the problem. Selecting the narrowest point in the projecting reef, he instructed every sturdy salmon to take a small rock in his mouth and strike the rock at the designated point.
     The countless blows soon told and a large tunnel was bored through, and the spirit guards were outwitted. But the Great Spirit had won, for before the foremost salmon had leaped the falls at Tumwater, the quarreling redskins, fearful lest their wives and children starve, had thrown down their arms, washed the war paint from their faces and made a lasting peace that has never been broken.
     The legend of the "Bridge of the Gods" is too well known to need repetition. A legend that was, of a truth, a mighty war of the Gods, and that scientists have declared did occur. To Frederick Balch belongs the honor of making an imperishable record of the awful catastrophy. Funeral Ceremonies: When a death occurs the family moves at once. Under no circumstances would they remain over night in a house or tent where one had died, as the evil spirit, that caused the passing, goes into the ground and would enter the person of anyone rash enough to remain overnight.
     The body is taken in charge by relatives or friends of the family and dressed in his best clothes, rolled tightly in new blankets, corded around to hold thorn securely to hold than in place, then left for one or more days, according to the weather, when without any further ceremony it is tied to a plank and placed in a tree, if one can be had, if not, then a scaffold is built high enough to be out of the way of marauding animals, and left there until thoroughly mummified. It is then taken down, new clothing and blankets replace the old, and the remains taken in state to the usual burial ground, accompanied by the relatives and the tribe in general. The corpse is placed in the leading canoe followed by the rest in single file. As the procession starts the women chant a wailing death song, and with the beating of the tom toms make a scene indescribably sad.
     On reaching their destination the body is placed in the family dead house. The wrappings, like those of ancient Egypt, are renewed at stated intervals by the immediate relatives.
     Burial Grounds and Funeral Customs: whenever it was possible, islands were selected for the final resting place of the dead. This was done to protect them from prowling animals and for general security from molestation by man or beast. On the middle river, two little rock ribbed islands were selected, one about ten miles east of Hood River and one three miles east of The Dalles, both known as Memaloose Illahee or Dead Land. Both have been used for this purpose for unknown ages, the ground being composed largely of decomposed bones. I visited this island in 1858, before relic hunters and body snatchers had made their ghoulish raids that eventually despoiled this sacred ground of its rightful tenants, and forced the abandonment of it entirely, as a burial place. As nearly as I can recall, there were about ten or twelve houses in fairly good repair, but many more were fallen down and in the last stages of decay. In many placed there were only patches of bone dust, the cedar plank that once enclosed the place, having disappeared ages ago. Perhaps half a dozen of the standing houses were cared for and the dead reclothed.
     The rest, while held sacred by the living, were left to the care of the death dead house was made of Cedar slabs cut from drift wood from the river and was about eight by twelve feet square and five test high. The puncheon or slabs were set on end and held in place by horizontal strips on either side at the top, and bound together with withes, one side higher to make a slope for the roof, which was also of slabs and fairly well protected against the weather. Doors opened on opposite sides, held in their places by sticks and withes. As I entered, on my right wore, perhaps, a half dozen well kept corpses, some on the ground and some hung from the roof.
     Beyond them were piled the belongings of the dead. Everything that an Indian heart holds dear was taken with him or her on this last journey across the Great Divide. There were trunks bought from the Hudson Bay Co. gorgeous with brass bindings and brass tacks and filled to overflowing with blankets, dress goods and dresses of every description, brass jewelry, beads by the quantity and of every kind, color and shape, pots, pans, dishes and glass, flint lock rifles, shotguns, pistols, tomahawks and axes, bows and arrows galore that made my boyish fingers tingle to get hold of them, bows made of the toughest yew and covered front end to end with sinew, arrows of arrow wood, beautifully feathered and jasper tipped. Had my sacrilegious fingers closed about those coveted treasurers simply going to waste, and which I needed so much, the jealous eyes of the Indians who accompanied me would have found me out and compelled restitution. On my left were piled up a row of the dead, perfectly mummified and intact, men and women, all their trappings gone and their shrunken bones covered with parchment like skin.
     I don't know how many of them there were, but they were piled three or four deep clear across the house. I opened some of the trunks and found bodies of children. One, a wee little girl, held firmly gripped in her pitiful little hand, a pewter spoon, which even death had failed to deprive her of.
     The fall before we came to Hood River a woman had died at Mosier, I believe, and left twins, a boy and a girl only a few days old. Gail Borden and Mellin had not commenced the manufacture of their life-saving baby foods and there was no available milk supply in camp, and it was evident to the obtuse Indian mind that a two days old child could not masticate salmon or roots and that the children would die. As they were to die they might as well die in their mother's arms as in theirs, so they wrapped the babies in a little blanket and took them to Memaloose with their dead mother.
     A good Samaritan family, I think one of the missionaries at The Dalles, heard of the incident and rescued them, though one of the children afterwards died.
     The medicine Man. The medicine man or woman, for there are as many if not more women than men doctors, have, as a rule, been given greater credit for influence in tribal matters than they deserve. My observation has been that they are of little more importance than any one else in their local confabs or pow wows. But certainly their vocation was a risky one as it was perfectly legitimate and proper to send the unfortunate medicine man to the Happy Hunting Ground to accomp-any the patient he had failed to cure. It was also very lucrative, had to be to pay for the risks taken, and often after a serious spell of sickness the doctor would walk off with practically everything his victim owned.
     I never knew of their giving medicine of any kind, though they may have done so. Their usual mode of procedure was to place the patient on his back (if he or she was not already there). The operator then folds the hands together and blows through them, much the same as a boy would do to whistle, twisting the face into a mass of wrinkles, then placing the hands, still clenched, under the ribs, forcing them into the body until the patient writhed in agony. Soon a peculiar thing would happen. On withdrawing the hands they would contain something that they claimed was the bad spirit or the disease in a visible form. The hands still clenched together would be plunged into a basin of water then withdrawn, when plainly to be seen was the evil spirit materialized and floating helplessly on the water. What this was I never had the slightest idea. It seemed to be a white opaque object about as large around as a quarter of a dollar. After showing this the hands were again plunged into the water, the evil one clasped into the clenched hands placed to the mouth and with the same facial contortions blown on, and when finally opened the evil one was gone -- blown to smithereens.
     One time I had an invitation to see a noted eye specialist operate on a particularly bad case. The patient, a young girl from across the rivers, was brought here to be treated. On entering the tent the doctor, an old woman from the Warm Springs, immediately stopped operations refusing to proceed in the presence of strangers, but on being told that it was all right, that I was the same as one of the family, she consented to my remaining. The girl, who was about fifteen years of age, had been suffering for some time with pains in her right eye. She was replaced in a reclining position with the old woman squatting on the ground beside her. The old woman commenced the same performance of blowing in her hands. I had hoped for something different but awaited developments. The girl evidently dreaded the operation and wrung her hands and moaned even before the old woman began her treatment. The doctor's clenched hands were placed lightly against the right temple near the outer corner of the eye and held there perhaps for five minutes, she all the while making the usual grunting noises with her mouth. Then there seemed to be a struggle with her hands as if she was trying to seize and draw something from the head of the girl. The girl screamed as if in great pain, when the hands were quickly withdrawn and plunged into the basin of water. My curiosity was aroused and I made a grab for the uncanny thing but the old woman was too quick for me and seized my hands, saying angrily, "Do you want to get her disease? Be satisfied with what you have seen." I then examined the girl's head, there was not a mark or bruise or mark of any description. I never learned whether the operation was successful or not. Another instance, one of our Indians had a sick child, a girl about five years old. One day he came to me feeling very badly as the child was getting worse. I knew there was no hope for her as she had the white man's dread disease, consumption, but I promised to do what I could and in company with a prominent physician of the city went to his camp. I had objected to his having an Indian doctor and was provoked, on entering the camp, to find an old woman doctor at work. The child was on her back and the old woman had her mouth at the child's navel. I took hold of her shoulder and pulled her rather roughly she then spat out a mouthful of blood into a basin that already contained a goodly quantity. The physician was dumbfounded. He examined the child carefully but could find no opening or abrasion of any sort from which such a quantity of blood could have been drawn. But there it was indisputable evidence of the old woman's sorcery. Another instance will suffice: An Indian named Skookum, who will be remembered by many of the older members of the Pioneer Society had a daughter just blooming into womanhood (she was about fourteen yearn of age) and to celebrate this, to them, momentous event, a party was given. An Indian doctoress of great repute was sent for. A platform was built across one end of the house for the performers and loose boards placed around the room to be beaten on with clubs to furnish music for the dancers.
     The seance opened about eight P.M. with a terrific bombardment of clubs on the roof of the house by the visiting squad from across the river. After a number of dancers had performed their stunts, simply by running up and down, keeping time to the singing and beating clubs on the boards, the doctoress, this time for a wonder remarkably young, took the platform. After a short dance she made a dive into the crowd and grabbed the first person she came to which happened to be a man. She dragged him onto the stage. Then locking arms, back to back, commenced the most weird performance I ever witnessed. Backwards and forwards across the stage they went, the froth streaming from her mouth.
     Soon the man's head lolled to one side and he hung a dead weight on her back. The singing stopped and two bucks carried the man away and laid him on the ground. The singing again commenced and again she darted into the crowd and seized a victim. This time it proved to be a woman and the same weird dance with the mesmeric ending. This she kept up until completely worn out with her terrific efforts. She also went into a heavy dreamless sleep. Thin is the only instance I ever knew of one possessed with mesmeric power.
     Law and Punishment of Crimes: The Indian was to all intents and purposes a law unto himself. Practically but two offenses among them murder and horse stealing, demanded tribal interference. In the case of murder if the victim had relatives, their would generally demand payment of some sort, perhaps a horse or two, and if powerful enough, enforce their demands and collect either of the culprit or his relatives. A case occurred soon after we came to Hood River. One of the Wallachiann Indians killed a Dalles Indian. Payment was demanded by relatives of the deceased and refused on the grounds of poverty. The excuse was not accepted and Mark, chief of the Wascos, backed up the demand. Still Wallachian refused to come through. Mark without delay marshaled his band of warriors, and at their head came to Hood River. They came for business and they looked it. Seventy five or a hundred of them on horseback with their war paint and eagle feathers galore. All were armed, some with flintlocks, others with bows and arrows and with tom-toms beating. In about two hours they returned leading three cayuses, par value of the dead Indian.
     An Indian will seldom steal from his own camp. I don't recall of even hearing of any such theft and they are proverbially truthful among themselves. In this connection I will say that our early experiences fully disproved the common saying that "A good Indian is a dead Indian".
     As a rule we found them honest and truthful, and I have never had any reason, after all these years to change my mind. They had every opportunity to rob us and our outlying fields of fruits and vegetables, but I never discovered that they took advantage of this opportunity which is more than I can say of some of their white brothers.
     Rearing Children: The life of the Indian child, after discarding their a waddling clothes, is carefree. Parental influence is the least of their troubles. They have no duties to perform, no obnoxious chores to attend to, the whole day is theirs from sunrise to sunset. They are early taught the use of the bow and arrow, to build snares for squirrels and other small game. I never knew of a case of corporal punishment.
     Should a squabble occur or they make themselves around grandma while at work a sharp "hun-nah Quash ka" will usually settle matters. Pater familias seldom has anything to say.
     Fishing and food resources: Fishing was the main source of support for the Wascos and Willamette tribes. During the spring freshet in the Columbia river, salmon in vast numbers entered its waters making their way to the spawning grounds in the upper reaches of the river.
     At the Cascades, the Grand Dalles and Tumwater or Celilo Falls, the Indians from all over the country would gather to secure their salmon, generally by purchase, buying from those having stands at favorable points in the rapids; not only at the places mentioned but at any point along the river where there was a swift current, but in no such quantities as at the great rapids, In early days, before the day of canneries, salmon would come up the river in unbelievable numbers. One year I operated a salting establishment at the five mile rapids at The Dalles. One dip net took out 3500 in ten hours. The farmers in the back country would came in to put up fish for the winter, which I sold to them for five cents each, many of them being Royal Chinooks weighing from thirty to fifty pounds each. In the fall of the year after spawning time the old salmon would die and millions of them would float down the river. At that time the farmers along the river raised many hogs which were allowed to range at large, and they of course found the salmon on the river banks and feeding on them became very fat, but the flesh was ruined for the year, being thoroughly impregnated with the salmon odor even coloring the fat a pinkish hue. In the fall came the steelheads and the white salmon or dog fish. These fish swarmed in countless millions in the smaller streams west of The Dalles, and a very singular fact in this connection was that only the streams coming in from the north were used by them, being big and little White Salmon and Wind River, with the one exception of Lindsay Creed near the Cascades. I have seen this stream so packed with them that one could have walked across it on their backs dry shod. The Indian valued these fish from the fact that they were not so oily as the Chinooks or steelheads or silversides. Another source of fish supply were the lamprey eels. These, however, were not used to any great extent except in case of shortage of the salmon run, for they were strong and oily. Sturgeon were also used fresh. These fish were caught with hooks or frequently in dip nets when fishing for salmon at the rapids. Many of them were of immense size and were the terror of the swift water dip netters. Many an Indian has lost his life by being jerked from his platform into the raging waters of the rapids by one of these leviathans. These fish, now practically extinct in the Columbia river, in the early day grew to an incredible size. One year something happened, what it was never known, but dead sturgeon floated down the river in vast numbers and many were of prodigious size. One that lodged on the sandbar, opposite the mouth of White Salmon, I measured. The head alone was five feet long and the body thirteen, making a total of eighteen feet and must weighed over fifteen hundred pounds. One year I saw two of these monsters shipped to The Dalles that weighed nine hundred pounds each. Another source of fish supply was obtained from the smaller streams by trapping the salmon and Dolly Varden trout, These fish were not put away but sold fresh and brought many a pretty penny into the seller's pocket, bringing from fifteen to twenty five cents each in The Dalles. The method employed to obtain these dainties was to build a V shaped dam across the mouth of the stream when the water was low and shallow so as to raise the water from three to four feet and at the lower end build a weir of cedar slats so that the impounded water would rush through and falling through the slats leave the unfortunate trout high and dry, to be later strung on a withe and sent to market. As many as three or four dozen would be taken in one night. Other food sources were game, berries and roots. Acorns were used in large quantities. These were gathered in the fall and taken to the river bank where clay was to be found. They were then piled in large conical heaps of perhaps from eight to ten bushels, covered with grass and green stuff and then a layer of mud.
     A slow fire was built over them and continued until they were roasted to a black coal. A pit was then dug close to the waters edge in the blue clay and the acorns were thoroughly mixed with the mud and then put in the hole where they were allowed to remain for a month or two in their slime. They were then taken out, washed, dried and put away in sacks for winter's use. I never considered them a great dainty. Many times I tried to enjoy them but one bite was more than sufficient to satisfy my curiosity. As soon as the white man imported vegetables and fruit the Indians relegated the acorn crop to the hogs. I always felt that they were like the lamprey eel, used when other food was scarce. Camas was obtained from Camas Lake across the river in Washington. This was a root about as large as an English walnut and when washed and cooked as the Indians cooked it, was a most palatable vegetable.
     Another singular article of food was wild sunflower roots. In the earlier days this plant literally covered the ground everywhere. It had a large meaty root something like a parsnip in shape when young but became tough and woody with age and a great nuisance to the plowman. In the a winter the tender root was taken, washed and cooked by digging a pit in the ground and heaping wood over them. They had a sweet syrupy taste. On the Blue Mountains in eastern Oregon, a root called couse was gathered. This was cooked and dried in the sun and resembled cotton-wood chips ground up. I was stranded on the Upper Columbia once, my small boat that I had crossed the river in from my ranch on the Washington shore going adrift. There was not a white man within twenty five miles on either side of the river. The second day I began to get pretty hungry when an Indian family came in front the mountains and camped near by. I at once applied for something to eat and a slab of dried couse and generous portion of dried horse meat, which the donor informed me had fallen over a cliff in the mountains and been killed, but had been so long dead before they found it, that I could not sit beside it, to say nothing of eating it. So I thanked him, taking the couse and going to my sagebrush camp trying to eat enough of the stuff to quiet the hunger pangs, but it was useless and I watched the daylight go and cane again bringing a steamboat and rescue. The huckleberry season comes in the early fall and glorious to the Indian it certainly is. I once visited the noted Chequash mountain on the eastern foothills of the Cascades on the headwaters of Wind River in Washington. This was a famous place and Indians gathered here from all over the country as far east as Spokane and Nez Perce reservations and from the Grand Coulee in the north to gather the luscious huckleberry, race horses and gamble. It was certainly the Siwash Newport and "joy reigned supreme". The seance generally ended by horse load or two of fire water and then pandemonium reigned instead of joy. In the winter snow shoe parties would bring in large quantities of deer meat or elk as the case might be. When heavy snows prevailed the animals were slaughtered with clubs. And here my story ends, my dream of the shadowy past, a history that tells of the red man of the wild, whom the vices of civilization has almost driven from off the earth.
     Civilization and education are not for the Indian, they are his curse and his death knell. As a child I knew them, roamed at will through their camps, was the same to them as their own, was watched over, cared for and loved by them. They taught me their language, their legends and superstitions and I have ever found them honest, truthful, generous and affectionate. Now your thoughts wander back to tales of torture and treachery in their wars of the past. True every word -- and words cannot tell all of its awful horrors. For generations unknown it has been taught them, instilled in them as part of their religion. In battle they are not human beings but demons. Home life of the Indian. In their home life the Indians are kind and tender hearted. Cruelty to either man or boast was not tolerated. I do not think that the Indian is constitutionally lazy. When there is nothing of importance on hand he can do an unlimited amount of sleeping and the hours spent in daylight slumber in no way affects the quality or quanity spent during the silent watches of the night. He is a sociable being and loves company and spends the greater part of his time either visiting or being visited. His ever-ready cayuse is saddled, and chanting a weird song he ambles along to a neighboring camp, to swap yarns, gamble or have a game of shinny. The Indian is a great gambler either in horse racing or with the bones. This game, one of their invention, was remarkable for its simplicity. A number of men, usually not less than eight or ten on a side, are seated opposite each other on the ground. In front of each side was placed a couple of loose boards on which they beat with short sticks accompanied with singing. A man from each side was chosen as operator and each took a seat in the middle facing each other. Two pieces of bone were provided each being about one and one-half inches long and half an inch in diameter and smoothed and dressed smaller at the ends. One had a groove cut in the middle, around which black thread was wrapped. Choice was made and the winner started the game. All bets had been previously made. Anything and everything of a personal nature was bet. One on one side would take off his blanket and challenge some one facing him, who would promptly accept, pulling off his blanket and tying them together throw them in the general heap at one side. Another would pull off his breeches, accepting a challenge from the other side, tie the legs together and throw them on the pile and so on until all. Bets were made, and then the music started on the side that held the bones. The man with the bones took one in each hand, put them behind him keeping time to the song with his body and hands; hands sometimes behind him, sometimes in front of him, passing the black bone from one hand to the other, until he thought he had his opponent puzzled, and then with a sign or a peculiar note, the song ceased and holding his clenched hands up in front of him his opponent guessed the hand holding the black bone. If correct the bones were passed over to him. I neglected to mention that about two dozen sticks, six inches long are used in place of chips. A stated number being forfeited with each failure to guess the location of the black bone. This is kept up until one side or the other wins all the sticks. Shinny was played with a ball made with maple gnarl and hockoy sticks. The side driving the ball beyond a set boundary on the opposite side won. At least twelve players were require on a side. In early days here, a band of young men from the Klickitats would come over, usually on Sunday, to play the Hood Rivers. They always took their losses good naturedly, and when some unfortunate lost both blanket and breeches he was jeered most unmercifully.
     The women were always busy even when entertaining company. Their fingers kept time with their tongues. They were expert at basket weaving, moccasin making and bead work. The basket was water tight and the larger ones were frequently used to boil roots in by dropping hot stones in them. Some of their moccasins were gorgeous with highly colored beads in various patterns. They were most faithful in their work in fields and orchards. I never had to urge them or hurry them. In fact the shoe was on the other foot, when I was starting home, some old woman with a load of fruit or potatoes would call out "Hun-nah, Henly, hiak, clourah nika" (Oh hurry up, Henry, you are awful slow.) Some of the men were expert in making bows and arrows and covering them with sinew. Some of the obsidian arrow points were of the most delicate workmanship. The bowstrings were of twisted sinew as perfect as if made by machinery.
     From childhood down through the years of manhood to old age, I have known them intimately and loved them -- loved them for their wealth of humanity. As I turn in sickening horror from the lurid headlines of my morning paper, telling of the blood stained shambles of the battlefields of the most christianized, educated nations of the earth, whose lives and energies to their utter limit, are employed in devising diabolical contrivances to destroy their fellow men, my thoughts turn backward to the days of long ago -- to the scenes of peace and simple happiness away from strife and struggles of modern civilization to where indeed the simple life was to live and let live -- to the simple God blessed, children of Nature far beyond the echoing scream of the locomotive whistle or the latest invention of science.
     For all these are we happier than they? "Lo the poor Indian with the un-tutored mind" is richer than we richer in the joy of living, richer in that he in peace can lie down and die without fear of an avenging God or an eternal punishment. His God opens the pearly gates to all and says "come". The Happy Hunting Grounds with the dun deer, roaming in the evergreen glades is waiting. His bow and quiver of arrows is in his hand. Just ahead is the Great Divide. It is soon crossed.

All is well.
Henry Cornelius Coe,
August 24, 1916

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