“HOW-LISH-WAMPO,” KING OF THE TURF—A DEAD THING CRAWLS.
Umatilla is known to be a great country for horses. I doubt if anywhere on this continent there can be found horses of greater speed or powers of endurance.
The feats performed by those people on horseback are wonderful, and past belief by those who know western horses.
How-lish-wam-po, chief of the Cayuse (Kiuse), is owner of several thousand horses. He is a stout-built man, has a dark complexion, wears his hair just clear of his shoulders, and is now past middle age.
This man is a natural horseman, and a match for any man of any race in matters pertaining to horses. He is really king of the turf in the Umatilla country.
In conversation with him regarding horses, he remarked to me that he had horses that could carry a man one hundred miles in a day, and bring him home the next day. I shook my head, when he proposed to back his judgment by betting twenty horses. I am satisfied that he could have won the wager.
The racing habits of these people are well known, and many a white man has found more than his match.
I remember, one day in the spring of 1867, a man
and boy passing my residence on the mountain bordering the Reservation. They were leading a fine-looking horse, with a fancy blanket over him. I suspected his purpose, and inquired his destination. In his answer I detected a rich Irish brogue and a tone that sounded somewhat familiar.
“It’s meself that’s going down to the Umatilla ‘Risivation,’ to have a bit of sport with the ‘Injuns.’ You see, I’ve been in Idaho this few years, and I’ve made me a nice bit of a stake; and I thought that, when I’d be going home, I might stop off at the Umatilla, and get even with them red-skinned boys that swindled me and Mike Connelly out of a few dollars when were going up,—so they did.”