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Updated: June 10, 2025
His eyes gleamed, and his bronze lips were turning pale. "My nation, listen; 'tis my last voice. I am a Umatilla. In my youth the birds in the free lakes of the air were not more free. I spoke, and you obeyed. I have but one more command to give. Will you obey me? "You bow, and I am glad. "Listen! "My fathers were men of war. They rolled the battle-drums.
Beyond the waters that girdled the island, one runner took the trail to Puyallup, one the trail to Umatilla, one the path to Chelon, and one the path to Shasta; another departed toward the volcano-rent desert of Klamath, and still another toward the sea-washed shores of Puget Sound. The irrevocable summons had gone forth; the council was inevitable, the crisis must come.
Wherever the white sail went in the glorious rivers, pestilence came to the native tribes. The Indian race was perceptibly vanishing. Only one son of seven was left to Umatilla. What would be the fate of this boy? The master went home troubled over the event of the afternoon. He was asking the Indian to be better than his opponent, and she was a well-meaning woman and nominally a Christian.
The word "Potlatch," spoken by the Indian boy, had caused his brow to cloud and his face to turn dark. "We will all go into the house," said the master. "Umatilla, will you not honor us with a visit this morning?" "No me come this afternoon for the boy; me wait for him outside. Boston tilicum, let me speak to you a little. I am a father." "Yes, and a good father."
Black Eagle's Feather or Benjamin, as he was called by the settlers was the only one of the children of the old chief who survived a summer of plague, and on this boy Umatilla had put all his hopes and affections.
This eminent chief of the Cayuse tribe of Umatilla Indians, located in northern Oregon, resembles in stature the graceful outlines of a forest pine. A commanding figure, six feet two inches in height, noble and dignified in bearing, quiet and reserved in manner, he creates an atmosphere of intellectuality. His speech is sparkling and eloquent. His face wears the soul-mark of serenity and triumph.
The Columbia rolled silently in the shadows with a shimmering of crimson on its deep middle tides. The long, brown boats of the salmon-fishers sat motionless on the tide. Among the craft of the fishermen glided a long, airy canoe, with swift paddles. It contained an old Umatilla Indian, his daughter, and a young warrior. The party were going to the young chief's funeral.
"Always," answered the chief. The Indians remembered these words. Somehow there seemed to be something prophetic in them. Wherever, from that day, Umatilla or Young Eagle's Plume was seen, each wore the black feather from the great eagle's nest, amid the mists and rainbows or mist-bows of the Falls of the Missouri.
The "renegades," such in fact and so called, roam on the Columbia River, and are of considerable annoyance to the agents at Warm Springs and Umatilla: others, the Snakes, two hundred in number, are upon the edge of the Grand-Ronde reservation. These live by hunting and fishing, and profess to desire to have lands allotted to them, and a school provided for their children.
One of these accidents occurred at Swallowtown, where the mistake was made of attacking the express-train to Umatilla instead of the local train to Pendleton. The lateness of the former and the occupation of the station too long before the expected arrival of the latter, and coupled to this the heroic deed of the station-master, interfered unexpectedly with the execution of the plan.
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