A Sinking Buggy, a Borrowed Team, and a Reservation About to Open

Oro, Okanogan County, Aug. 16. [Special.] — Having been over the settled part of Okanogan, I determined on my last trip to come in by way of Marcus, in Stevens County, across the Colville Reservation, which is about to be thrown open to the settler and miner, and which gives it special interest at this time. I was accompanied on my trip by my wife and 10-months-old baby, and they have the honor of being the first white woman and child that have ever crossed the reservation. At Marcus we found what is not common in a new country — a first-class hotel. But Marcus also has a historical interest, as it was one of the first places settled in Northern Washington. The British boundary commission built a winter camp there in 1860. The buildings are still standing. They are formed in a hollow square like a fort, on the bank of the Columbia River, and are now used for business houses. Marcus Oppenheimer, the pioneer merchant, is still there, engaged in business, and is quite an interesting character. The town is divided. One half of it lies half a mile east of old Marcus and is called East Marcus, but I think that in a few years they will be united and the 'East' will be dropped.

I had shipped in a newspaper outfit also, to be hauled across to Oro, and when I tried to hire teams by contract to haul it they were all afraid to take it, as none had ever gone that way before, so I finally had to hire two four-horse teams by the day and send two extra men with picks, shovels and axes along to make sure that they got through. After I had made all of my arrangements for the freight I began to look around for some mode of conveyance for myself, wife and baby. The only light rig that I could find was a Cincinnati sidebar top buggy of the vintage of '74, and my team was one big white elephant, seventeen hands high, and a small buckskin cayuse, fourteen hands high, and I had neither brake nor breeching. I paid the liveryman in advance, agreeing to find another person to drive them back, but, on the square, I don't believe he ever expected to see them again.

We finally got started on our way Friday, August 5, crossing the river at 11 a.m. Our road wound along the Columbia River for about five miles through the timber, gradually climbing the divide between the Columbia and Kettle rivers, so that when we were opposite the Young America mine we were about the summit and had a grand view of the majestic Columbia on the one side and the valley of Kettle River on the other, but could not see that river for timber and small hills that intervened. Then we began to pass small farms with generally good, substantial log houses and stables. The grain was just ripe, and the Indians were in the field cutting and caring for it. They do all their own work here, being quite industrious. We drove on until nearly 1 p.m., when, beginning to feel hungry, and thinking we were near Warren's, where we had been told we could get a good meal, we pulled up at one of the best looking houses, and asked if that was where Warren lived. A Native woman, being the only one in sight, said, 'Halo kumtux,' and pointed to the house across the road. Thinking she meant that that was where Warren lived, we drove up to the stable and unhitched before going to the house. There was no one in sight, so I began to call, and finally a mixed-race girl about 12 years old came around the house, carrying a child nearly as large as herself. She was very timid, and would hardly talk, but I finally got her to let us in the house and show me where the water was so I could water the horses. My wife had never been in an Indian house before, and was disposed to be shocked at the dirty condition of things, but I told her she must conform to the customs of the country and make the best of things, which she tried hard to do. I finally induced the girl to build a fire and make us some coffee. They had plenty of good bread and butter, but we both drew the line at butter and took green onions instead. We praised the coffee, which was good, took a picture of the girl and child, and after giving her a dollar hitched up and started again on our journey. We passed many Indian houses during the day, all showing evidences of civilization.

The roads were good and on every side the tall pine trees reared their heads, furnishing a welcome shade and lending a charm to the trip. There was scarcely any underbrush, and the grass was still green as a well-kept lawn, and on every side we saw wild grapes, choke-cherries, service-berries, huckleberries and several other kinds of berries we did not know the names of. We often stopped to gather fruits and flowers. There was such a charm to the situation after having been confined in a hot room in the hotels of the city that every little while we would almost unconsciously break out in song, making the welkin ring. On either side of us the mountains loomed for hundreds of feet above us like sentinels guarding their treasures, which are soon to be attacked by the ruthless hand of the white man in his search for gold and silver stored there for untold ages.

About 4 o'clock we forded the Kettle River for the first time, without any serious mishap. About a mile before the crossing we met an Indian with his family, all on horseback, going home from the hunt. He had been successful, too, as he had the paws of a bear and a ham tied to his saddle, consequently was in a good humor, and wanted to talk awhile. He seemed very intelligent, too, and told us many interesting things about the country and roads, but did not tell us that we should take the road to the left when we came near the river again, as we should have done, so when we came to the forks of the road we followed the plainest one and went directly to the river, instead of following it for a mile more. The entrance was good and there appeared to be a good place to come out on the other side, but the farther we got in the deeper the water became, and when only half-way across the horses had to swim and the water was soon running in the buggy and then nearly up to our waists when we were seated in the buggy. I guided the horses straight across and tried to make the bank just above a big rock that stuck up out of the water over a foot, but got anchored on another one that was just enough higher than the axle to hold us so we could not get off. I climbed out on the rock and packed the baby ashore, and then came back for my wife. She looked so forlorn I wanted her to sit under the seat for the kodak, so I could get a picture of her in Kettle River, but she wouldn't do it, so that scene is lost to posterity. After we were out of the buggy the team was strong enough to pull it over the river and get out. Then we began to take stock to see what was done. I saw a bundle of clothes on the bottom, floating along. The water was so deep I had to wade in up to my arms and keep kicking the bundle toward shore until I could reach it with my hands. We each had an extra hat and the baby a bonnet, too, but when we went to look for them they had gone with the lap robe, etc., down the river. The kodak is probably ruined, too, along with some wood engravings I was bringing in to use in illustrating the Madre d'Oro. We finally got what we had left in the buggy and started for the British custom house, three miles further. We got into Grand Prairie in about a mile, and saw where we should have crossed on a ferry, but when we got near the custom house it smelled like Indian, and no one was in sight, so we concluded that could not be the place and drove on to Scott's, about three miles further. It was dark before we got there, and our buggy box opened, letting the seat down on my wife's side, so I had to sit on the sack of wet oats and let her have my seat. We were not singing then. When we came in sight of Scott's house my wife said it was the most welcome sight she had ever seen. It was nearly 9 o'clock, but Miss Scott took us in like a good Samaritan and found dry clothes and got a good hot supper for us, too. After we had hung our clothes on a hickory limb to dry we went to bed and had a good night's rest. Next morning after a good breakfast we took the top off the buggy, as it was topheavy, nailed the box up and started on our second day's journey. The north fork of Kettle River is bridged, so we did not have to ford it. Grand Prairie is nine miles long and three wide and is a beautiful valley. At Fourth of July Creek we again got on to United States soil at Kistler's store. We stopped there nearly an hour, talking with him about the country and the route. We followed the north bank of the river from there to Batiste Tonasket's, a son of the old chief Tonasket. But just before we got there, in going over an irrigating ditch the reach of the buggy broke, and we had to get out and walk to the house. As it was about noon when we got there they invited us to eat, and as they had good venison steak and fresh eggs we did so, and I have eaten many worse meals in the houses of white people. After dinner Batiste Tonasket went with me to his workshop and put some wire and iron straps and helped me to wire the buggy up so that we could go on our way. Leaving there we again made the mistake we had the day before when we came to two roads and took the right hand one, and in consequence had to cross the river seven times that afternoon instead of five, as we would have on the other road, and did not have as good a road, so we only made seventeen miles that afternoon, and got into a hornet's nest, too, all of us, including the horses, being stung. We finally got to Eholt's, at the mouth of Boundary Creek, about 6 o'clock, much more tired than we had been the night before, but with good and growing appetites. You would have known it was a German home from the flowers and vines that surround the house. We were met at the gate by the lady of the house, Mrs. Eholt, and her daughter, and given a welcome that made us feel we had fallen among friends. As we went into the house my wife spied an organ, and, forgetting how tired she was, had to have some music before supper, which was a splendid one.

We had another good night's rest and in the morning (Sunday) I took a horse belonging to Mr. Eholt and rode up to the mining camp on Boundary Creek, three miles above. In early days a great deal of gold was taken out of this creek, and the ditches, flumes, etc., are still to be seen. At the camp I met Mr. Smith, McDonald, Bartholemew, Howard C. Walters and Mr. Lee, of Spokane; W. H. Fife, of Tacoma, and several others whose names I do not now remember. The last three gentlemen are the principal stockholders in the Spokane and Great Northern Mining and Milling Company, and have erected a free milling gold mill to work the ores of their mines. The mill was not quite completed yet, their ore crusher not being in yet, so they have to break the quartz by hand, but the machinery is on the way now, and in a few days they will be able to keep the mill running steady. They have a good stack of ore on hand now at the mill, and are developing their mines so as to be able to furnish all they can use. I did not have time to go to the mines, so cannot describe them intelligently, and will not try to until a future time. These gentlemen are the pioneers in a comparatively new and very promising camp, and are all Americans and good miners. I here saw one of the prettiest waterfalls I ever beheld in my life just above the mill. Boundary Creek has a fall of sixty-eight feet at one precipitous plunge, and just above that another of sixty feet, making 128 feet in all. When the sun strikes the water you can see all the colors of the rainbow. The company intend to bridge the falls and use the power to run their mill and furnish electric power for anything needed.

Mr. Fife concluded to follow us on horseback to Oro, as I told him we would get there that night for a late supper. He was to follow me in half an hour to Eholt's, where I had left my team and family. It was 12 noon when I got back, and the Eholts tried to dissuade us from starting that day, as they were the last inhabitants except Chinese miners at Rock Creek or Indians we would find until we got to Okanogan Smith's, on Osoyoos Lake, two miles above Oro, and they said it was forty-five or fifty miles, but I knew it could only be thirty-five to thirty-eight at farthest, and was determined to go on. Mr. Fife must have changed his mind, as I have not seen him yet. The Eholts had a nice lunch put up for us, and we started on the last part of our trip. The scenery and roads were as good as on the first day of our trip until we got to Rock Creek. This place is now given over to the Chinese miners, who are still taking out a good deal of gold. This place was discovered in 1860, after the crowd began to leave the Similkameen, and was a very prosperous camp for many years. Our stop there was short, as the road at that point leaves Kettle River, and we began to climb the first hill of any importance that we had had on our journey. Even it is not a bad one. It is the divide between the Kettle and Okanogan rivers, and $250 would make it a very easy grade. Our scenery here changed, and from a timbered, mountainous country it became a rolling prairie only sparsely covered with timber. We saw a great many bands of horses and herds of cattle that afternoon, and they were all in fine condition. About 4 o'clock we stopped to eat our lunch and let the horses eat, and got through to Okanogan Smith's, as I had said, in time for a late supper. It was 9 o'clock, and the family had only just got through with their meal. In a former letter I said Okanogan means a place of meeting or rendezvous, and that this house was very properly called 'Okanogan Smith's,' and I thought so then. There were twenty people there for breakfast the next morning, and I don't know how many there had been the day before. People are coming and going all the time, but seldom going home. Smith's early apples and peaches are now ripe, and people are coming from as far as Ruby and Fairview to buy them. As Mr. Smith was intending to start for Spokane the next day via Marcus, he drove my team back, so the liveryman will probably see them again, and I will close this letter.