“Never,” said the chiefs.
“And have been as a brother.”
“You have been our white brother,” they said.
“Well,” he continued, “I have just heard news that is of utmost importance to you. The immigrants who come from the sunrise and will soon be here have been delayed; a man died; they buried him; he had the smallpox. I advise you, therefore, to leave this place as soon as possible, and to go to your northern border and not return for over a month.”
No news could have been more alarming to the Indians, who understood only too well what the smallpox was; not many years before infected blankets having been distributed among them through the agency of white trappers whom they had been allowed to rob, as a sort of punishment for having robbed lone trappers heretofore; and by this the whole tribe had been decimated by the scourge, very many dying, and some even of those who recovered, but were badly marked, had killed themselves. They had been told by the trappers that the smallpox pits were the mark of the devil. “The devil will get you sure now” they told them. As soon as Bisnette told these Indians that there was smallpox in the train the chiefs slid out to their tents, and within fifteen minutes the whole army was on the move, going to the north, and not returning while the immigrants of that season were passing.
The other point was the cause of the breaking up of the organization. After passing the Sioux country, fear of the Indians wore off, and the necessity of rapid travel became more and more apparent, but among the one hundred and twenty men of the train—as many at least as two to the wagon—at least one hundred, says Mr. Case, were “worthless,” or dangerously near that line. The daily labor of the march was devolved more and more upon the twenty men or so that felt the necessity of pushing on. The majority, however, often spent their evenings playing cards to a late hour, or dancing and fiddling with the young folks around the fire, and slept the next morning until called for breakfast by the women. Various ways were devised to equalize these matters; the women, among other devices, being put up to taking and burning the packs of cards, unbeknown to the men. But it finally became old—getting up 2 o’clock of a morning to hunt the cattle, which, in grazing, always attempted to go ahead of one another, and thus sometimes were spread out for several miles on the prairie. Doing this again and again, for men who would not take their turn, but were sleeping at the camp, was finally too much to be borne. Case and some others, accordingly made ready, and one morning struck out with their wagons, and before night the whole train was resolved into two sections; the jolly boys who danced and fiddled being left behind.
Arriving in Oregon, Mr. Case first stopped at Linnton, but soon went over to Tualatin Plains, and settled first near Mr. Hill’s place, now Hillsboro. In 1845, he recalls that he was employed in building the first frame barn in Oregon (W. M. C.), on the Wilkins place; and he here made the acquaintance of the old mountain men, Wilkins, Ebberts, Newell, Meek, and Walker. He was not well satisfied, however, with the locality. It was a long way over the hills and through the deep woods to the Willamette River at Linnton, or at Oregon City—Portland then being a mere camping station on the Willamette. Case wished to locate on the river, and accordingly, in 1846, moved to French Prairie, and acquired, partly by donation claim, and afterwards by purchase, two sections of land, being about one-half prairie, and the other half timber. It was three miles from Champoeg, where Newell acquired the Donald Manson place, and became town proprietor. Here he has remained, engaged in farming, saw milling, and running a tile factory, performing his duties as a citizen, being known during the war period as an unyielding union man, and occupying the responsible place during that time and later of County Judge of Marion County. He has had a family of thirteen children, eight of whom are now living. He has twenty-three grand-children. His life has been one of intense activity, and he has performed almost no end of hard physical work, and has borne heavy responsibilities.
He says, however, that the most intense and thrilling experiences of his life were during the season that he spent in California, and going to and returning from the mines. This was 1849. It is worthy of the most careful record, being remembered to the most minute details by Mr. Case, and affording a chapter in human experience seldom equalled. It also shows the moulding influences brought to bear upon Oregon men, who showed themselves as perhaps of the firmest fibre to be found on the Pacific slope in 1849; which is saying a great deal. It deserves to be told in the language of Mr. Case himself, and perhaps it will be. But for some reasons it will be proper to give these recollections in a somewhat condensed form, as in their entirety, as told by himself, they would compose a volume. Indeed, in his rapid and energetic conversation, with which only the most experienced stenographer could keep pace, it required him four hours to tell the whole thing—even omitting many of the details that he remembers. However, it is only an idle thought or wish to imagine that what men were years in living in the fastest period of Pacific Coast history, can ever be told in full or the life itself be reproduced. There are distinct parts to his narrative. The Voyage; the Oregon Miner’s Vengeance; and The Return Overland.
THE VOYAGE.
News of the discovery of gold in 1848 was first brought to Oregon by an Oregonian by the name of Barnard. Marshall was building a mill, as is well known, for Sutter, on the American River, and after allowing the water to run through the tail ditch to sluice it out, examined the bed, as the water was again shut off, and found at the bottom of the ditch many little yellow rocks, which were highly polished and very heavy. Not being acquainted with gold, which he had an idea occurred in native form only as dust, not as nuggets, he tried pounding out one of the little yellow rocks—which instead of crumbling under the hammer, was flattened finally to the size of a saucer, and of course was made very thin. Even then, however, the true nature of the rock was not suspected; and it was not known that it was gold until Marshall had word from the United States’ Assay Office at San Francisco to which he had sent a small collection of nuggets to the value, however, of $1,000.