small. Thus each season had its duty and its appointed place of abode, and year after year the same mouth found them in the same spot.
In 1833 a delegation from these Oregon Indians went to St. Louis, and through Mr. Catlin, the artist, made known their object, which was “to inquire for the truth of a representation which they said some white men had made among them, that our religion was better than theirs, and that they would all be lost if they did not embrace it.” Two members of this delegation were Nez Percés—“Hee-oh’ks-te-kin” and “H’co-a-h’co-a-h’cotes-min,” or “Rabbit-skin Leggings,” and “No Horns on his Head.” Their portraits are to be found in “Catlin’s American Indians.” One of these died on his way home; but the other journeyed his thousands of miles safely back, and bore to his tribe the news “that the report which they had heard was well founded, and that good and religious men would soon come among them to teach this religion, so that they could all understand and have the benefits of it.”
Two years later the Methodist Episcopal Society and the American Board both sent missionaries to Oregon. Before this the religion of the fur-traders was the only white man’s religion that the Indians had had the opportunity of observing. Eleven different companies and expeditions, besides the Hudson's Bay and the North-west Companies, had been established in their country, and the Indians had become only too familiar with their standards and methods. It was not many years after the arrival of the missionaries in Oregon that a traveller there gave the following account of his experience with a Nez Percé guide:
“Creekie (so he was named) was a very kind man; he turned my worn-out animals loose, and loaded my packs on his own; gave me a splendid horse to ride, and intimated by significant gestures that we would go a short distance that afternoon. I gave my assent, and we were soon on our way; hav-
