Nor are they the only tribe of the Indians of that section who have lost their original name in the fanciful ones bestowed upon them by the voyageurs, who were the first explorers of the great North-west. The Pen D’Oreilles (Ear-rings), Cœur D’Alenes (Needle-hearts), still exist.
Multuomah was of medium hight, slender in figure, but as straight as an arrow, and gracefully proportioned. His face, undisfigured by war-paint, was eminently handsome, and his features wore a pleasant expression. His eyes were dark and keen as an eagle’s, and his hair was long and flowing, and as black as jet. His complexion was not unlike bronze in its hue, clear and vivid, and not that dull chocolate hue, so common among the Oregon tribes.
He wore a hunting-shirt, leggins, and moccasins of deer-skin, all richly ornamented with fringe and beads; and an eagle’s feather was fastened in the band that kept his long black hair from his eyes. He was armed with rifle, tomahawk, and scalping-knife.
His age could not have been over twenty-five. Take his appearance altogether, he was one of the finest specimens of the red-men to be found at the present day. He had mixed with the white men, and learned some portion of their civilization without becoming contaminated by their vices.
“Is Multuomah alone?” asked Glyndon.
“No,” answered the young chief, “there are a hundred warriors awaiting his bidding yonder.”
He pointed across the Columbia with a dignified action, but some little pride mingled with his dignity, as if he felt that his consequence would be increased by the announcement of the force at his command. Nor was he deceived in this, for his hearers received the intelligence with great satisfaction.
“Good!” cried Glyndon. “We can wipe the Smohollers out in no time now.”
“Is Smoholler near?” asked Multuomah, eagerly.
“Well, he just is. His head-quarters are in yonder cliff, and he has regularly besieged us here.”