9. Chapter 9
In the morning I got up early to look for Douglass Bill, thinking and hoping he might have landed during the night, but no one had seen him and there was no strange canoe in the harbor. After breakfast, in order to kill time, I climbed the mountain east of the hotel to a height of about a thousand feet. It is heavily timbered, and I found plenty of fresh deer-signs within plain sound of the hammers wielded by the carpenters at work on the hotel, but failed to get a shot. I returned at eleven o'clock, but Bill had not yet shown up. Three other Indians were there, however, with three deer in their canoe, which they had killed on the opposite side of the lake the day before. I now concluded that Mr. Major's confidence in Bill was misplaced; that he was not going to keep his contract, and was, in short, as treacherous, as unreliable, and as consummate a liar as other Indians; so I entered into negotiations with these three Indians to get one or two of them to go with me. But they had planned a trip to New Westminster, to sell their venison, and I could not induce any one of them to go, though I offered big wages, and a premium on each head of game I might kill, besides. They said that if I wished they would take me to their village--which is five miles down the river--and that there were several good goat hunters there whom I could get. I accepted their offer of transportation, stepped into the canoe, and we pulled out. As we entered the shoal water in the river I asked for a pole, and impelled by it and the three paddles we sped down the stream at a rapid rate.
There was a cold, disagreeable rain falling and a chilly north wind blowing. This storm had brought clouds of ducks into the river, among them several flocks of canvas backs. The Indians, who were using smooth-bore muskets, killed several of these toothsome fowls. One flock rose ahead of us and started directly down the river, but by some kind of native intuition the Indians seemed to know that they would come back up the opposite shore. They dropped their guns, caught up the paddles and plied them with such force that every stroke fairly lifted the light cedar canoe out of the water, and we shot across the river with the speed of a deer. Sure enough, after flying a hundred yards down stream the ducks turned and, hugging the shore, undertook to pass up the river on the other side, but we cut them off, so that they had to pass over our heads. At this juncture the two muskets carried by the two young men cracked and three canvas backs dropped, limp and lifeless, into the water within a few feet of us.
We arrived at the hut occupied by this family at noon. It stands on the bank of the river, half a mile above the village of Chehalis, and as we pulled up, two old and two young squaws and nine small Indians, some of them mere papooses in arms (but not in long clothes--in fact, not in any clothes worth mentioning), came swarming out to meet us. Their abode was a shanty about twelve feet square, made by setting four corner posts into the ground, nailing cross-ribs on, and over these clapboards riven from the native cedars, and the roof was of the same material. The adult members of this social alliance had been engaged in catching and drying salmon during the recent run; the heads, entrails and backbones of which had been dumped into the river at their very door. There being no current near the shore they had sunk in barely enough water to cover them, and lay there rotting and poluting the water used by the family for drinking and cooking. Cart-loads of this offal were also lying about the dooryard, and had been trampled into and mixed up with the mud until the whole outfit stunk like a tanyard. Within was a picture of filth and squalor that beggars description. The floor of the hut was of mother earth. A couple of logs with two clapboards laid across them formed the only seats. On one side was a pile of brush, hay, and dirty, filthy blankets, indiscriminately mixed, on which the entire three families slept, presumably in the same fashion. Near the centre of the hut a small fire struggled for existence, and that portion of the smoke that was not absorbed by the people, the drying fish and other objects in the room, escaped through a hole in the centre of the roof. The children, barefooted and half-naked, came in out of the rain, mud, and fish carrion, in which they had been tramping about, and sat or lay on the ground about the fire, looking as happy as a litter of pigs in a mud hole. On poles, attached by cedar withes to the rafters, were hung several hundred salmon, absorbing smoke, carbonic acid gas from the lungs of the human beings beneath, and steam from the cooking that was going on. It is understood that after this process has been prolonged for some weeks these once noble fishes will be fit for the winter food of the Siwash.
Some of the houses in Chehalis are neat frame cottages; in fact, it is a better-built town, on the whole, than the village of Harrison River already described; but these better houses all stand back about a quarter of a mile from the river, and the inhabitants have left them and gone into the "fish-houses," the clapboard structures, on the immediate river bank. Some of these shanties are much larger than the one mentioned above, and in some cases four, five, or even six families hole up in one of these filthy dens during the fish-curing season.
As a matter of fact, there are salmon of one variety or another in these larger rivers nearly all the year, but sometimes the weather is too cold, too wet, or otherwise too disagreable in winter for the noble red man to fish with comfort, and hence all these preparations for a rainy day. After the fishes are cured they are hung up in big out-houses set on posts, or in some cases built high up in the branches of trees, in order to be entirely out of the reach of rats, minks, or other vermin, and the members of the commune draw from the stock at will. The coast Indians live almost wholly on fish, and seem perfectly happy without flesh, vegetables, or bread, if such be not at hand, though they can eat plenty of all these when set before them. If one of them kills a deer he seldom or never eats more of it than the liver, heart, lungs, etc. He sells the carcass, if within a three days' voyage of a white man who will buy venison.
SALMON BOXES IN TREESOne of the young men already mentioned went with me down to one of the big fish-houses and called out Pean, a man about fifty years of age, who he said was a good goat hunter and a good guide. They held a hurried conversation in their native tongue, at the close of which the young man said Pean would go with me for two dollars a day. I asked Pean if he could talk English, and he said "yes," but this proved, in after experience, to be about the only English word he could speak. He rushed into the hut, and in about three or four minutes returned with his gun, powder-horn, bullet-pouch, pipe, and a small roll of blankets, and was ready for a journey into the mountains of, he knew not how many days. His canoe was on the river bank near us, and as we were stepping into it I asked him a few questions which he tried to answer in English, but made a poor stagger at it, and slid off into Chinook.
Just then another old Indian came up with a canoe-load of wood. I asked him if he could speak English--"wah-wah King George"; and he said "Yes."
I then told him I had hired this other man to go hunting with me and asked him if he knew him.
"Oh, yes," he said; "me chief here. All dese house my house. All dese people my people. No other chief here." I said I was delighted to know him, shook hands with him, gave him a cigar, and inquired his name.
"Captain George," he said; "me chief here."
"Is he a good hunter?" pointing to Pean.
"Yes, Pean good hunter; good man. He kill plenty sheep, deer, bear." With this additional certificate of efficiency and good character I felt more confidence in Pean, and stepping into the canoe was once more en route to the mountains.
Still, I felt some misgivings, for my past experience with the fish eaters had taught me not to place implicit faith in their statements or pretensions, and the sequel will show how well grounded these fears were.
