the most barbarous acts ever perpetrated by civilized men. But what can be done? The leaders of the party cannot be arrested, though justice loudly demands their punishment. Here we have not even a justice of the peace; and as to the military force garrisoned at Fort Orford, it consists of four men. If such murderous assaults are to be continued, there will be no end of Indian war in Oregon.”—F. M. Smith, Sub-Agent.
The Simon Kenton referred to in the following narrative was an experienced Indian fighter, and commanded a regiment in the war of 1812.
“In the course of the war of 1812 a plan was formed by some of the militia stationed at Urbana, Ohio, to attack an encampment of friendly Indians, who had been threatened by the hostile tribes, and were invited to remove with their families within our frontier settlements as a place of safety, under an assurance that they should be protected. Kenton remonstrated against the movement as being not only mutinous, but treacherous and cowardly. He vindicated the Indian character against the false charges which were alleged in justification of the outrage they were about to perpetrate, and warned them against the infamy they would incur by destroying a defenceless band of men, women, and children, who had been induced to place themselves in their power by a solemn promise of protection.
“He appealed to their humanity, their honor, and their duty as soldiers. He contrasted his knowledge of the character of those unfortunate people with their ignorance of it. He told them that he had endured suffering and torture at their hands again and again, but that it was in time of war, when they were defending their wives and children, and when he was seeking to destroy and exterminate them; and that, under those circumstances, he had no right to complain, and never did complain. But, said he, in time of peace they have always been kind, faithful friends, and generous, trustworthy men.
“Having exhausted the means of persuasion without effect, and finding them still resolved on executing their purpose, he took a rifle and called on them to proceed at once to the execution of the foul deed—declaring with great firmness that he would accompany them to the encampment, and shoot down the first man who attempted to molest it. ‘My life,’ said he, ‘is drawing to a close; what remains of it is not worth much;’ but, much or little, he was resolved that, if they entered the Indian camp, it should be done by passing over his corpse. Knowing that the old veteran would
