Page:Oregon Historical Quarterly volume 11.djvu/197

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What I know of Dr. McLoughlin.
183

trouble in crossing the Des Chutes; Clark, Crockett and myself were in advance of the main party, and were taking the dangerous ford one at a time, which separated us by the distance of a long rifle shot, when we saw Indians on the west side; the third man narrowly escaped losing his gun, horse and clothing, but a quick movement which placed the muzzle of his rifle against the breast of an Indian who was trying to wrest it from him, caused it to be dropped as if it were hot, while a glance over his shoulder showed him a brown hand about to close on the horse's rope. The spring of horse and man to get away caused the Indians, seventeen in number, to scatter like a band of wolves defeated of their prey.

We reached the Dalles in safety, on the Sunday preceding October 20th, and guided by the Indians, stripped our horses close against a log building used for a chapel, not thinking of Sunday or preaching, and not understanding why we were passed and repassed without notice. I told Mr. Bancroft this many years ago[1], still stinging with the mortification I felt for the indecent intrusion we had so unintentionally committed. We ate a hasty meal outside this rude Mission church, and my comrades went to find out where the main portion of the party were. They found them near the camp of the man from whom they had hired the horses and where they had left the canoe in which they had come from Linnton and Fort Vancouver. It was quickly arranged that Clark, Murray and Ramsey should go down the river in the canoe, while Crockett, Ferguson and myself should cross the Cascades via the north base of Mt. Hood, to the McCarver farm on Tualatin Plains.

We started early, and travelled fast the first half of the day to the North arm of Hood River, crossing that into the grandest timber growth any of us had ever saw. We slept two nights in these groves of the Cascade forests, well described by the poet as God's first temples. I recognized the feeling of awe that used to impress me when as a child I attended churches designed,

  1. We felt no reason to complain of coldness of the Missionaries. We felt we were intruding.