The Indian curiosity had not fully subsided before the company were introduced to, and cordially greeted by, Captain Wyeth, who had been to the lower Columbia on a trading expedition. He had conducted Rev. Jason Lee and party to Fort Hall, where he had established a trading-post; thence he had gone to the lower country, received his goods from the brig May Dacre, made arrangements with the Hudson’s Bay Company, sold his goods and establishment at Fort Hall to the Hudson’s Bay Company, and was then on his way back to the States. Captain Wyeth, in all his motions and features, showed the shrewd Yankee and the man of business. He politely introduced the mission party to Messrs. John McLeod and Thomas McKay, of the Hudson’s Bay Company. After the usual etiquette of introduction and common inquiries, Messrs. McLeod and McKay having retired to their camps, Captain W. entered into a full explanation of the whys and wherefores of Rev. Mr. Parker’s short note, confirming the observations and suspicions of Mr. Parker, in reference to the treatment the missionaries might expect, giving a full statement of the feelings and efforts of the Hudson’s Bay Company to get rid of all American influence, and especially traders. Turning, with a smile, upon the ladies, but addressing the gentlemen, he said, “You gentlemen have your wives along; if I do not greatly mistake the feelings of the gentlemen of the Hudson’s Bay Company, they will be anxious to have their influence in teaching their own wives and children, and you will meet with a different reception from any other American party that has gone into the country.” It would be useless to add in this sketch that the advice of Captain W. was of incalculable value in shaping the policy and conduct of the mission of the American Board in their necessary transactions and intercourse with the Hudson’s Bay Company. Captain W. had fallen in with Rev. S. Parker, but could give no definite information about him or his plans, except that he was on his return to the United States, by way of the Sandwich Islands.
As we have never seen a description of these semi-civilized men, that in youth had left their native countries, and found themselves thousands of miles away, in the midst of the Rocky Mountains, surrounded on all sides by wild, roving bands of savages, cut off from communication with civilization, except by the annual return of the fur company’s traders, or occasional wandering to some distant trading-post, a thousand or five hundred miles from the borders of any State or settlement, we will at this time introduce to the reader several men as we found them at this American rendezvous, most of them finding their way eventually into the settlement of Oregon, and becoming active and prominent men in the organization of the provisional government, as also good citizens. Among these veteran Rocky Mountain hunters was a tall man, with long black hair, smooth face, dark eyes (inclining to turn his head a little to one side, as much as to say, “I can tell you all about it”), a harum-scarum, don’t-care sort of a man, full of “life and fun in the mountains,” as he expressed it. He came and paid his respects to the ladies, and said he had been in the mountains several years; he had not seen a white woman for so long he had almost forgotten how they looked. He appeared quite fond of telling “yarns.” In the conversation, Mrs. Whitman asked him if he ever had any difficulty or fights with the Indians. “That we did,” said he. “One time I was with Bridger’s camp; we were traveling along that day, and the Blackfeet came upon us. I was riding an old mule. The Indians were discovered some distance off, so all the party put whip to their horses and started to get to a place where we could defend ourselves. My old mule was determined not to move, with all the beating I could give her, so I sung out to the boys to stop and fight the Indians where we were; they kept on, however. Soon, my old mule got sight of the Blackfeet coming; she pricked up her ears, and on she went like a streak, passed the boys, and away we went. I sung out to the boys, as I passed, ‘Come on, boys, there is no use to stop and fight the Indians here.’” Fun and firmness were the two prominent characteristics of this young mountain hunter. He expressed a wish and a determination to visit and settle in lower Oregon (as the Wallamet Valley was then called). He had a native wife, and one son, just beginning to speak a few words. The father seemed, on my first noticing him, to be teaching this son of his to say “God d – n you,” doubtless considering this prayer the most important one to teach his son to repeat, in the midst of the wild scenes with which he was surrounded. Though, to his credit be it said, this same wild, youthful mountaineer has become a good supporter of religious society, and has a respectable family, in an interesting neighborhood, near Forest Grove, in Oregon.
We will call these mountain hunters by numbers, for convenience, as we shall refer to them in our future political sketches, in which they participated.
No. 2. A man of medium height, black hair, black whiskers, dark-brown eyes, and very dark complexion; he was formerly from Kentucky. (I am not positive.) He was quite fond of telling yarns; still, as he was not considered very truthful, we will only give the story as we have it of the manner in which he and the one we will give as No. 3 obtained their titles. 2 and 3 were traveling together; 3 was from Cincinnati, Ohio. They had reached Independence, Mo.; says 3 to 2, “Titles are very necessary here in Missouri, what titles shall we take?” “Well,” says 2, “I will take Major.” 3 says, “I will take Doctor.” Very good. They rode up to the best hotel in the place and called for lodgings.
2. “Well, Doctor, what shall we have for supper?”
3. “I don’t care, Major, so as we get something to eat.”
The Major and the Doctor enjoyed their supper and have borne their titles to the present time. The Major has never been, from all I could learn of him, a very truthful man or reliable citizen. He spent several years in Oregon and in the mountains, and found his way back to Missouri. The Doctor is now a resident of Idaho. The most remarkable trait in his composition is story-telling, or yarns, and a disposition to make friends of all political parties, or join all religious sects – something of a good lord and good devil order. He appeared in those early times to belong to that party that paid him the best. He was first in the employ of the American Fur Company, but appeared to lend his influence to the Hudson’s Bay Company. He also had a native wife of the Nez Percé tribe, and was considered by the Hudson’s Bay Company a useful man to divide the American influence in trade with the Indians in the mountains, and equally useful to distract and divide the political influence of the early settlers. By his connection with the natives in marriage, the Hudson’s Bay Company in trade, and good lord and good devil principles, he could adapt himself to the Protestant or Catholic religion, and in this manner become a kind of representative man, something like strong lye and aquafortis mixed, and just about as useful as such a mixture would be. He succeeded, by political maneuvering, or as the sailors say, “boxing the compass,” to fill a place and draw a salary from Uncle Sam; carrying out the principles he has acted upon in his whole life, his efforts have been to neutralize what good others might do.
No. 4. A young man from Ohio, of a serious turn of mind; at least I concluded this to be the case, from the fact that he asked of the ladies if they had any books to sell, or that they could spare. A nice pocket-bible was given him, for which he politely expressed his thanks, after offering to pay for it. The