murderous occurrence, for it was now seen that if timely measures were
not taken to repress them, similar tragedies would surely follow.

Knowing all the men of the Rogue River tribe, and speaking fluently
the Chinook tongue, which they all understood, I went down to their
village the following day, after having sent word to the tribe that I
wished to have a council with them. The Indians all met me in
council, as I had desired, and I then told them that the men who had
taken part in shooting the woman would have to be delivered up for
punishment. They were very stiff with me at the interview, and with
all that talent for circumlocution and diplomacy with which the
Indian is lifted, endeavored to evade my demands and delay any
conclusion. But I was very positive, would hear of no compromise
whatever, and demanded that my terms be at once complied with. No
one was with me but a sergeant of my company, named Miller, who held
my horse, and as the chances of an agreement began to grow remote, I
became anxious for our safety. The conversation waxing hot and the
Indians gathering close in around me, I unbuttoned the flap of my
pistol holster, to be ready for any emergency. When the altercation
became most bitter I put my hand to my hip to draw my pistol, but
discovered it was gone--stolen by one of the rascals surrounding me.
Finding myself unarmed, I modified my tone and manner to correspond
with my helpless condition, thus myself assuming the diplomatic side
in the parley, in order to gain time. As soon as an opportunity
offered, and I could, without too much loss of self-respect, and
without damaging my reputation among the Indians, I moved out to
where the sergeant held my horse, mounted, and crossing the Yamhill
River close by, called back in Chinook from the farther bank that
"the sixteen men who killed the woman must be delivered up, and my
six-shooter also." This was responded to by contemptuous laughter, so