A runner had been sent on to the Mission and a wagon sent out for our wounded men. My bunkie and I got up early, mounted our horses and rode on to the Mission that morning. The boys soon were preparing provisions for the famishing troops, but after starving so long the smell of food cooking made me sick and I could not eat until the next morning. Some of the boys were so ravenous they had to be restrained or they would have killed themselves eating.
Now we laid around camp, getting into mischief, and I learned to smoke. The only regular rations issued us was tobacco—and the smokers seemed to take such comfort in the pipe, I too indulged.
When we came into the Indian country Gilliam told us we could have any Indian horses we captured. I was pretty handy with a rope and got away with three head from the battle at the Touchet. One, a fine horse rode by a chief, I was particularly proud of. A big burly Dutchman in another company also coveted that horse, so one morning he put his rope on him and led him into camp. I at once claimed the horse and proceeded to make good my claim. He resisted and we got into a "scrap"; he had friends, so had I. All took sides—it was decided we fight for possession; the winner to get him. That suited me all right—so at it we went. Men say it was a hard fight, but I won and took the horse to lead him off, when an under officer, a friend of the Dutchman, stepped up and took hold of the rope, saying, "I'll take this horse." I was only a boy of nineteen years, but I did not intend to give up the horse without a struggle, and was considering the consequences of hitting an officer when Colonel Gilliam walked unobserved into the ring, cut the rope behind the officer's hand, handed the rope to me and walked away without a word. I tell you I was the proudest boy in that camp—and after the colonel was gone I could not resist crowing at the Dutchman in true boy fashion. This is just an example of how justice was meted out in the army of volunteers.
In the spring about two hundred recruits came. We now numbered about five hundred men. Then a party set out for north of Snake River to hunt Indians. I was with the company. We crossed the Snake at the mouth of the Palouse—we made a camp at Little Falls—were at Big Lake on Cow Creek and all over the upper country, but failed to find any number of Indians. We fired a few shots at stragglers now and then, but had no regular engagement. The Cayuse warriors had scattered about among other tribes, many going over the mountains to wait until the soldiers left the country.
A detachment of men was sent to Walker's Mission, called Tshimakain, where Walker and Eells and their families were located as missionaries among the Spokanes. We got the families and brought them back with us. We came back across country, crossing Snake River at the mouth of Alpowa Creek to an Indian encampment known as Red Wolf's Land—then we returned to Waiilatpu. This expedition went out the first of May. Sometime in June we began our return trip to Oregon, having been out about six months.
I remember while camped in the Umatilla country I was breaking an Indian horse to ride—and he would throw himself whenever I mounted. I had become pretty mad at his persistence in lying down, so concluded to tie him down until he would be willing to stand up. I did so and left him close to camp—but in the morning I was minus a horse—the wolves had eaten him up. We had much to learn in those days.
On this trip Colonel Gilliam was killed accidentally. In pulling a gun from a wagon it caught in a rope and was discharged, killing him. He was a good man and a good officer, well liked by all his men, as he was a friend to all.
We arrived at Oregon City a few days before the Fourth of July. The Governor rode out and reviewed the troops, as we were on parade. Every man had his horse decked out in Indian trappings and we were as wild as a band of Indians. Crowds of people had gathered to welcome us home. The Governor made us a short talk and dismissed us. Thus ended the organization of Oregon's First Mounted Volunteers—we all scattered out to our homes.—Thus ends Mr. Walter's article.
Another of the pioneers of '59 was W. S. Gilliam, son of the Colonel Gilliam referred to in Mr. Walter's article. Mr. Gilliam was one of the most honored and useful of Walla Walla's pioneers. A number of years ago he prepared a contribution for the Pioneer Association which we are presenting here. We are making selections on account of the length of the article. The first pertains to the journey across the plains in 1844, and gives a view of some of the interesting events there:
"The next morning a sight opened up to us that can never be seen again by mortal man. As far as the eye could reach up the valley of the South Platte and as far on the bluffs as we could see was black with buffaloes. The quantity of the buffaloes was one thing that the early travelers could not exaggerate.