102 NARRATIVE AND ITINERARY LOSS OF ESCORT. 



sidered utterly impassable in this vicinity. He told me that the nearest place where I could 

 obtain forage, was at the rancho of Mr. Hugh Currin, about four miles distant. 



Continuing our course through a slightly undulating, well wooded country, we soon readied 

 our destination, and encamping near a little stream by the house, succeeded in obtaining good 

 pasturage, and an abundant supply of oats. Mr. Currin, to whom we are indebted for many 

 acts of kindness, was the owner and first settler of Clackamas prairie, a fine little opening 

 situated on the eastern bank of the Clackamas river. It was through the canon of this stream, 

 that we had first seen the Willamette valley. The non-appearance of the two men whom I 

 had sent back for the mule rendered us all quite anxious to-night. 



October 15. To-day both the men came in, after an unsuccessful search. As this was an 

 excellent place for our animals to recruit, I resolved to send Sam back for the mule, and to wait 

 three days for his return. Many of the settlers were abandoning their ranches, from fear of an 

 Indian attack, and a general panic prevailed. We had the rare pleasure of reading in the 

 newspapers an account of our own massacre in the mountains. At the expiration of the three 

 days Sam returned with the mule. He had traced it, with an Indian s instinct, to where it 

 had wandered from the trail, descended a deep ravine for water, knocked off the pack against a 

 fallen tree, and then forced its way back over the logs to our camp near the &quot;Stone House.&quot; 

 His principal difficulty had been to replace the pack, but he had finally succeeded in lashing it 

 to the animal s legs, neck, and tail, in such a manner that it was hard to conceive how the poor 

 brute could have advanced a single step. 



Having heard that Lieutenant Williamson s party was at Oregon City, we immediately 

 prepared to rejoin it. I gave Sam his pay, with a few presents, and a supply of provisions for 

 his journey back to his tribe. As he was very much afraid of some of the white settlers who had 

 threatened to kill him, he started in the night. I have little doubt that we all owe our lives to 

 the fidelity of this Indian. 



October 19. This morning we rode in a drenching rain to Oregon City, a distance of about 

 sixteen miles. The country near the road was gently undulating in its character, and much of 

 it heavily timbered. We saw on the way several good dwelling houses, cultivated fields, and 

 other indications of civilization and prosperity. Oregon City is a thriving town on the eastern 

 bank of the Willamette, built on a narrow plateau between the high river bluff and the water. 

 We found Lieut. Williamson s party encamped near it, in charge of Lieut. Crook; and soon 

 learned that our difficulties were not yet over. Lieut. Williamson had been compelled, by the 

 lateness of the season, to return by water to San Francisco, in order to prepare for our contem 

 plated exploration in the Sierra Nevada. He had left orders for me to take command of the 

 party and make an examination and survey of the route to Fort Reading, by way of Fort Lane 

 and Fort Jones. Major Gr. J. Rains, 4th infantry, notwithstanding the urgent remonstrance 

 of Lieut. Williamson, had decided to detain our escort, now consisting of only eighteen 

 dragoons, commanded by Lieut. Sheridan. Since Lieut.- Williamson s departure, an Indian 

 war had broken out in Rogue River valley, through which our route lay, and all com 

 munication between Fort Lane and the Umpqua valley was now cut off, except for strong and 

 well armed parties. Ours consisted of Lieut. Crook and myself, Messrs. Fillebrown, Ander 

 son, Young, Bartee, Coleman, and Vinton, with twenty packers, ten of whom were Mexicans. 

 Several of our number were entirely unarmed, and others had only pistols. There were, 1 

 think, but five rifles in the whole command. 



Two dayg were spent in making preparations for our survey. Finding myself thus unex- 



