Indeed, Lambert seems to have been very well pleased with him, and offered him a passage on his ship to Boston, and a return, either by land or sea, and to this his parents were almost persuaded to give their consent, but at the last moment could not quite bring themselves to do this. Sometimes he was invited by the captain to take dinner, and amused the officers by his sturdy refusal to take anything to drink—perhaps as much from suspicion as from set conviction—though the better class of men on the Columbia at that time greatly deprecated the use of intoxicants and were largely temperate, and the boy very likely had imbibed these ideas.
He remembers Lambert as large and powerful, and full bodied; of dark hair and complexion, and "a good man." Nathaniel Wyeth, whom he also saw, was florid, light-haired and blue-eyed, but also large, and perhaps even finer looking than Lambert.
Game at Scappoose and on the ponds of Sauvie's Island was very abundant, consisting of deer, elk and bear, and panthers and wildcats; and beaver were still plentiful; but the waterfowl of the most magnificent kind, at their season of passage, and, indeed, during much of the year, almost forbade the hunter to sleep. Labonte remembers one winter season in particular when there was a snowfall of about sixteen inches, and in the early morning he went forth to hunt swan. These splendid birds of the white species, like the innumerable ducks and geese, assembled at the island ponds to feast upon the abundant wapatoes. On this particular morning the youth soon discovered his flock of swans upon the surface of a shallow lake, eating the roots, and being such an immense flock that they were not to be disturbed even by the immediate presence of the hunter. Then, disrobing to his shoulders,—for the water was too deep to reach the flock otherwise,—he simply waded in, bringing down two or three birds to a shot, until he soon had as many as he could carry. Indeed, the lake was so covered by the flock as almost to conceal the water. However, upon reaching home he was rather chided for his performance by his father, who told him that by such cold bathing he would be likely to get the "rheumatism," which was his first acquaintance with that term.
IV.
SPOKANE INDIANS AND INDIAN MYTHS.
When taken to Spokane Falls, Labonte was a small boy of about six years. His parents made their residence there from about 1824 to 1827.
He was much with the Indians, and learned their language like a native, and was often present at their religious services, and heard them tell their myths. One of their meetings he describes as follows: At the lodge of the greatest chief there was a picture, from whom obtained he does not know, but in all probability from some member of the Hudson's Bay Company. When worship was held, this picture was spread out on the floor, and, kneeling before it, the chief began a prayer to the Great Spirit, or the Hyas Ilmihum, who was addressed also by the name of Creator; the expression "Quilen-tsatmen," meaning Creator, or, more exactly, "He made us." The prayer was a petition to be made pleasing to God, to be kept under His care, to be taken to Him at last, and to be kept from the "Black fellow." After the chief had finished, others also followed, kneeling down and uttering a shorter petition until all at last took their place and followed along in an orderly manner. Those who had any offerings left them before the picture. Then they began a hymn or chant, and after that was finished, all joined in a dance.
Labonte recollects the names of some the Spokane chiefs: Ilmicum Spokanee, or the chief of the moon; Ilmicum Takullhalth, the chief of the day; and Kahwakim, a broken shoulder. He also recollects a Colville chief, whose name was Snohomich, a white-headed old man.
The Spokane Indians had the legends of the coyote, or Tallapus, but his name was Sincheleep. In his breast he carried certain knowing creatures, which were his spirits, or wits, and when he wished to take council with himself, he would call them forth. They gave him the answers he needed, and then went back into his breast. Sincheleep, the coyote, was quite different from the fox, Whawhaoolee, though the fox was also a knowing beast. The big gray wolf was Cheaitsin; the grizzly bear, Tsimhiatsin, and the black bear, N'salmbe.
A story of Tallapus, or Sincheleep, that Labonte remembers was the same in substance as that of Tallapus and the cedar tree; although Spokane is almost a thousand miles from the region of the story of Tallapus. This illustrates to what a wide extent the folklore of the primitive Indians extended. Sincheleep was once traveling and was not entirely certain how he should obtain his meals upon the way. However, in order to look as well as possible he decided to dress up nicely; to comb his hair, and paint his face becomingly. In the course of time he was met by two women who carried baskets in which they had some camas bread and other Indian dainties. He came forward and addressed them and said very pleasantly, "Sit down, sisters; sit down. I will sing to you and tell you stories." So they sat down while he sang and told them stories, and they enjoyed his society so much that when at length he remarked casually, "What have you in your baskets, sisters?" they very kindly opened their stores and treated him; which, of course, he enjoyed, and began at once to contrive for another treat. He bade them good-bye and went on, but when out of sight took a circle about and coming to a stream washed himself and painted another way, and also combed his hair differently, and met the two women again. He addressed them as before, saying, "Sit down, sisters; sit down, and I will sing and tell you stories." This they did, and were again so charmed that they opened their baskets and treated him as before. He then went on, but circled about again so as to meet them once more, being now combed and painted still differently. He sang and told stories and was again treated. But about the fifth or sixth time that this happened, the women began to suspect that the cunning creature was no other than Tallapus, and when he saw that he was discovered, he bade them a final good-bye, and went off to the wooded hills. Then began the story of the tree, which as told by Labonte, runs as follows: "He saw a tree with a crotched root, leading to a hollow within, and thinking this a fine resting place, went inside. He then asked the tree to close, and it did so obediently. This was some time along in the fall. After it was closed, he asked it to open, and it did this also. Then he asked it to close and it was closed. It opened or shut whenever he asked it to, but by and by when he asked it to open, it would not. Then he was very sorry and sat down inside the tree and cried. But he was compelled to remain there all winter."
Some time along in the early spring the birds came at his request to peck him out; but the first, the second, and many others that tried only broke their bills and were unable to make even a small hole, until this was done by a woodpecker; and through the opening Tallapus was able to gaze abroad and see the blooming flowers and the green grass.