WITCHCRAFT— WOODEN FIGURES. a7 
are greening on the mountain-side and the birds of spring are singing, the 
joyful cry resounds through the village, Ne-peg'-wuh! ne-peg'-wuh! (the 
salmon! the salmon!) As among the Karok, this dance is generally fol- 
lowed by a licentious debauch. In the fall is celebrated the White Deer 
Dance (u-pi-wat-u-gunkhl), which is held out-doors. 
Like the Karok they believe old squaws can by witchcraft prevent the 
salmon from ascending the river, and in former times they not unfrequently 
slew with butcherly murder the unfortunate hag so suspected. They do not 
wish the salmon to be interfered with or be misled in their courses. They 
even have a pole erected at the mouth of the Klamath to show them the 
way in—a tall pole on the sand-bar, ornamented with a smallish and rather 
pretty cross, with two streamers fluttering from it. 
The only attempt at carving in imitation of the human figure that I 
have seen in California was among the Yurok, and was probably connected 
in some way with the salmon-fishery. It was a figure something like one 
of the ancient Roman termini—a satyr’s bust, fashioned in profile from a 
slab about three inches thick. It was extremely rude, the nose and chin 
sharp-pointed and the head flattish, the arms rigidly straight and extending 
down at a little distance from the body, and on the rump a curving, devil- 
ish-looking tail about three feet long. It was arrayed in a United States 
regulation-coat, with the arms loosely thrust into the sleeves, the body 
stuffed with grass, and the tail sticking out between the flaps. Perched on 
a short pole on a lofty fern-grown hill at the mouth of the Klamath, it 
stood looking out over the ocean—a kind of shabby St. Anthony preaching 
a silent sermon to the fish. The Indians would not or could not explain its 
meaning, but I have little doubt that it was intended to assist or direct the 
salmon in some manner in entering the Klamath River. 
In addition to this figure, Mr. A. W. Chase saw and described two 
others, one on each side of the Klamath at the mouth, one of which he 
kindly sketched for this work. In a letter to the author he states that both 
of them commemorate the killing of an enemy in battle. Klamath George 
of the village of Rikwa, killed a Chillula, and to use his own words, 
“When I come home, I take board, and cut his picture out, and stick him 
up”. The one on the south bank, which is here figured, and is the more 
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