When reaching the dusty alkaline plains, where both good water and grass were scarce, naturally the best tempered people often turned grumblers. One of the chief causes of complaint laid before the superior court was that which arose between the horse companies and the cattle companies. They did not agree well together. The court decided to divide the caravan into two columns, "the horse" and "the cow" column. In 1876 the Honorable Jesse Applegate, a member of that immigration, delivered an address before The Historical Society of Oregon, entitled "A Day with the Cow Column." It is one of the most precise and graphic pictures ever drawn of life as it was, in this advance column of civilization, destined for its great work in the future Pacific states. The last third of the distance of that memorable journey proves the courage of the American, and at the same time arouses our commiseration and pity. I passed over the larger portion of the same road a few years later, with goggles drawn over my eyes, and a handkerchief bound about my face, as a defense from the dust and the myriad buffalo gnats, and can the more easily sympathize with those hundred mothers, often forced to travel on foot with little and well-nigh helpless children pulling at their skirts. As I think, I can but say, "O the pity of it!"
Mr. Applegate remarks:
"There was no time to pause and recruit the hungry stock, or to hunt for the withered herbage, for a marauding enemy hung upon the rear, and hovered on our flanks, and skulked in ambuscade in front. The road was strewn with dead cattle, abandoned wagons, and every article of household goods, even the sacred keepsakes. The failing strength of teams, required shorter couplings so as to save a few pounds. An ox or a horse would fall. Men would remove the yoke or harness, and secure a substitute from the almost equally tired animals in the corral."
Oh, it is well for the sons and daughters of these states of the Pacific, as well as the tourist in his parlor car, as they look upon flower-decked meadows, waving wheat-fields, orchards, and homes of comfort, with beauty everywhere, to remember the heroic deeds of heroic men and women who won for them this grand inheritance.
When the immigrants reached Fort Hall they met Captain Grant, who made the old appeal: "Leave your wagons, impossible to take them, no wagon-road to Oregon." He showed them the many wagons already left as proof of his statement. But here comes Whitman, who says, "Men, you have with incredible hardship brought your wagons thus far, they are a necessity for your wives' and children's comfort, even their lives. They will be invaluable to you when the end of the journey is reached. I took a wagon, made into a cart, to Fort Boise six years ago." And thus "Old Click," on its last round, gave out its best blessing, which it conferred upon tired mothers and little children. The company took Whitman's advice, and the wagons rolled on. His watch-word was, "Travel, travel, travel, nothing else will bring rest and the end of the journey."
Upon reaching Snake River, the doctor devised an ingenious and safe method for the weaker teams to cross. There were still remaining about one hundred wagons, which Whitman arranged in one long line, placing the strong teams in front. The wagons rear and front were then roped together and the procession started with fifty men on horseback, pulling upon a long rope in front, while others attended the various teams to keep every one in line and moving.
It was a daring venture, but so well managed that the deep and dangerous river, the worst upon the route, was passed without accident. Many years ago the author, while making a talk in the opera house at Walla Walla, where many of the old pioneers and their descendants were gathered, recited the incident of the crossing of the Snake. After the close of the meeting a venerable old gentleman came to me and taking my hand said:
"Yes, that story of the crossing of the Snake is true, I was there. But I had four yoke of as good steers as ever pulled in yokes, and I was determined they should not be tied up in that long string of wagons to drown. I stood upon the bank and waited until the whole line was fully one-third across when I whipped in. I got about a quarter of a mile from shore, when I struck deep water, and felt my wagon floating, and soon oxen and wagon were facing squarely up stream, and the oxen barely getting foothold. I saw it only a question of time when we would drift into the deep water below and be lost. Just then I heard a shout, 'hold them steady,' 'hold them steady,' and I looked and saw a man rushing through the water, and as he came in reach he deftly dropped a rope over the horns of the lead ox, and beginning to pull gently said, 'Now whip up.' The noble animals responded, and taking a wide circuit, the water grew shallower, and we reached the shore in safety! And that man was Marcus Whitman!"
At the Snake the doctor met his faithful old Indian Istikus, and a pack-train loaded with flour sent to them by Dr. Spalding. Never was a generous gift so fraught with blessing. He also received letters telling him of the dangerous illness of Mrs. Spalding and urging him to leave all and ride with speed to the Spalding Mission. So the rest of the journey was made under the guidance of Istikus, who knew every foot of the way, and could give excellent advice.
The doctor, mounted upon a fresh horse sent by Dr. Spalding, was soon galloping on his way, and his wonderful ride ended when he reached home a few days later. Less than three weeks after that one hundred wagons, with their precious loads of wearied humanity, rolled down the sides of the Blue Mountains into the grassy, flower-decked meadows of the Walla Walla Valley, and American history made one of its grandest records. Old Glory went up, never to be hauled down while patriots live! The entire land between the oceans was ours. While perhaps one distinctive personage stands conspicuously in the front, there were honors enough to crown the whole band of heroes and heroines which, in 1843, at a critical period, marked plainly the great highway across the continent.