INTO THE HOSTILE CAMP
"All the people came out on Sunday. Monday came; something must be done to relieve the terrible strain. Accordingly, four of us saddled our horses and started for Smoholla's camp. We went unarmed, thinking it safer to meet them on square footing of friendship. We took them completely by surprise. We asked to see the chief. The Indians spoke in the jargon tongue, and told us to tie our horses and wait the appointment of Chief Smoholla. We took a position on a hill in the middle of their camp, and had a full view. Not long after we saw all the Indian men going down to the council tent. Then they sent out an escort for us.
"As we entered the door of that long wigwam, nearly every warrior was present, ranged on both sides, the chief at the rear end. He looked like a king. Stolid as a statue. He was the war leader of the Columbias. We thought of the treachery of the Modocs, but we could not back out now. On we went until just before the chief. He motioned us to stand there; then asked the reason for our coming. I spoke to him in jargon and explained the purpose of our meeting. Then said we wanted first to preach a sermon to him and his people from the 'white man's book of heaven.'
"That seemed to relieve all apprehension on his part and such a stillness I never saw in any audience before. For the space of half an hour not a muscle moved; not an eyelid quivered. Rigid attention.
"I then told them that our people had become alarmed, for they thought so large a band of Indians meant hostility. And that God had made us all brothers and not enemies. So the Great Father wanted us all to live together in peace on earth. Then the old chief spoke: 'If we are all brothers, why has the white man taken our lands from us? Has the white man any rights here in Kittitas that the Indian has any right to respect? The Indian came first.'
"Well, that was an unanswerable speech. But I excused the white man all possible. 'That we could plow and plant where they could not and still let them hunt and fish.' And I promised utmost friendship on the part of the white brothers.
"We gave them our handshake and pronounced benediction of God on them, and Chief Smoholla agreed to accept that as the 'pipe of peace.' We finally got a change of countenance in that stern face; his hearty farewell—'Klose tillacum mika,' and then under those balm and fir trees we most devoutly thanked God for saving us from savage treachery and rode away.
"It was the influence of Father Wilbur's agency over those Yakimas that kept them quiet—for he certainly was a major general in the management of Indians.
FATHER WILBUR ON THE INDIAN AGENCY
"The Indians at once feared and loved him. While at the agency one time he told us the following story: A German brought a wagon load of liquor on to the reservation and began selling to the Indians. Down near the Satas River, twelve miles away from Fort Simcoe, he built his booth—set a tent—fixed a counter and shelves—put his stock in and was dealing out the 'fire water' as independently as if wholly protected by law. Some of the Indians were getting drunk when Father Wilbur discovered it. He sent word to the sheriff of Yakima County to go down there and arrest the intruder. The sheriff (I well knew him) sent word back that he knew that young German too well. That, having a large family on his hands to support he must let out that job to someone else; that he could have it if he desired. Next morning Father Wilbur saddled his riding mule, took a good riding horse with saddle and some ropes tied on behind. Then he called to his aid an Indian with saddle horse. Together they rode in sight of the booth; they dismounted and tied the three horses to trees. Father Wilbur then gave instruction to the Indian to stay by the horses, ropes in hand, and come to his help when called. With no kind of weapon, he approached the place. The proprietor was ready for him—recognizing the agent—and had a double-barrel shotgun loaded and lying across his counter. When Wilbur got within forty feet the German took up the shotgun, saying, 'if you come any farther I will kill you.' Wilbur stopped; stood with a steady eye upon him, spoke not a word. The German began to pour out a volley of oaths, and after he was exhausted with cursing he took up a whiskey bottle, poured some out into a glass and drank it. While engaged in that act, Wilbur moved up several steps. Then the man took up the shotgun again and swore he'd shoot if he came another step. After another rage of oaths, he took up the bottle and was pouring some more liquor. Seeing now his chance Wilbur sprang, like a cat upon a mouse, right upon that demon—threw him backward on the ground, and was over him. But the German was a young and very stout man—he threw his hand back to his belt, grabbed his sheath knife, and made his aim at Wilbur's side. Seeing the move, he brought his foot with such force against the man's arm that the knife flew clear across the booth. Now, the Indian was on hand, and with the ropes they securely tied the man. Brought the horse—lifted him into the saddle, and soon were out on the road; and within two hours they had that 'demon' locked safely in the 'guard house.' Once a day Father Wilbur would go to his cell and take in bread and water. The man would curse. On going in on the third day he called to Wilbur: 'I have acted the fool, Mr. Wilbur, now if you will release me I will go down to my store of 'fire water'—pour out the last drop of it, go home, and live like a man the balance of my life.' 'I'll take you at your word,' said Wilbur. He saddled the horses and the two rode down to the twelve-mile place. True to his word that German poured out all his whiskey, then telling Father Wilbur 'good-bye' turned away to go home to the Spokane country. 'Hold,' said Wilbur, 'you will need money on your journey, here is twenty dollars—go now, and God bless you.'