unmolested through an entire campaign, while a friendly old man was shot
from behind while milking his cow. The town was near the edge of the
woods and no one was secure. The fine character whom we greatly
respected,--the debater of original pronunciation,--who had never
wronged a human being of any race, was shot down from the woods quite
near the plaza.

The regular army was useless in protection or punishment. Their
regulations and methods did not fit. They made fine plans, but they
failed to work. They would locate the enemy and detail detachments to
move from various points to surround and capture the foe, but when they
got there the bushes were bare. Finally battalions of mountaineers were
organized among men who knew Indian ways and were their equals in
cunning. They soon satisfied the hostiles that they would be better off
on the reservations that were provided and the war was at an end.

It was to the credit of Humboldt County that in the final settlement of
the contest the rights of the Indians were quite fairly considered and
the reservations set aside for their residence were of valuable land
well situated and fitted for the purpose. Hoopa Valley, on the Trinity,
was purchased from its settlers and constituted a reservation protected
by Fort Gaston and a garrison. It was my pleasure to revisit the scene
of my boyhood experience and assist in the transfer largely conducted
through the leadership of Austin Wiley, the editor and owner of the
_Humboldt Times_. He was subsequently made Superintendent of Indian
Affairs for the state of California, and as his clerk I helped in the
administration. When I visited the Smith River reservation, to which the
Bay Indians had been sent, I was hailed with joy as "Major's pappoose,"
whom they remembered of old. (My father was always called Major.)