3 04 McLOUGHLIN AND OLD OREGON
ago the red men's children met in social converse on the selfsame spot. She pressed her withered face too near the glass.
"Ugh," shuddered the flaxen-haired daughter of the host, "there 's a horrible old Indian woman peeking in at the window."
Frightened glances turned that way, but the face was gone.
"She was here, just this minute. I saw her," said the girl, going out on the porch to look, followed by her companions; but nothing could be seen.
"Never mind. Twas only an old squaw. Let's play that game again," cried the merry-hearts.
Old Waskema had retreated to a rock in the governor's garden. By dint of some digging and some pushing she turned it over. Beneath, in a little cache, lay a bunch of obsidian knives, some strings of copper beads, and a handful of haiqua shells. Gathering up the rusting treasures, Waskema stole away. The next day Governor Abernethy wondered who had been digging at the stone in his garden.
The Methodist mission had not prospered. In fact, while Jason Lee was lecturing in the States, unforeseen influences had been at work in the valley. The most casual observer had noted the frightful growth of the mission graveyard. It may have been scrofulous inheritance, it may have been the sudden caging of these wild birds the Indian children perished like leaves of the forest. Jason Lee in distress had taken some favorite pupils to Fort Vancouver for treatment in vain. At this juncture some ran away; the rest were withdrawn by their superstitious parents. The history of Indian schools at Dartmouth and Hamilton repeated
