SHOOTING THE RAPIDS OF THE QUINAULT. 



F. J. CHURCH. 



Three of us had been camping for a 

 week on the shore of Lake Quinault, 

 Washington, resting after a hard trip 

 across the mountains. To the North and 

 East the snow-clad summits of the Olym- 

 pics rose to the hazy September sky; while 

 to the West and South lay a rolling, up- 

 land country, covered with dense forests. 



On the river bars, at the head of the lake, 

 some 50 Indians, of the Quinault tribe, 



AMATEUR PHOTO BY F. J. CHURCH. 



QUINAULT INDIAN RUNNER. 



were encamped. They lived in lean-tos 

 built of driftwood, and thatched with split 

 cedar boards or matting woven from 

 rushes. These encampments with the brill- 

 iant strings of red salmon, hung up to be 

 smoked, and the bright-colored blankets 

 and headdresses of the Indians, looked 

 extremely picturesque, from our bivouac; 

 but distance truly lent enchantment. On 

 nearer approach our nostrils were rilled 

 with the worst combination of abominable 

 smells it has ever been my misfortune to 

 encounter. 



The Chinook, which these people speak, 

 is a queer jargon. It is said to have been 

 manufactured many years ago by an em- 

 ploye of the Hudson Bay Fur Company, 

 who taught the principal chiefs of various 

 Indian tribes to speak it in order to facili- 

 tate traffic with them. From that time it 

 has grown and spread until almost every 

 Indian of the North Pacific Coast, and 

 many inland tribes of Washington, British 

 Columbia and Oregon speak it. White 

 men of all nations who live in this country 

 speak it, and even the almond-eyed China- 

 man learns it soon after locating here. In 



short, it is the court language of the North- 

 west, as the sign language is of the plains. 

 It is made up from various Indian tongues, 

 with a few English, or rather pigeon-Eng- 

 lish, French, and Spanish words inter- 

 mixed. There are only about 1,500 words 

 in the language and it is very easy to learn. 



We were now desirous of getting an 

 Indian to take us down the river in a 

 canoe, to the ocean, 20 miles in a direct 

 line, but nearly 40 by the winding stream. 

 In common with many of the rest of us, 

 these copper-colored fellows are not on 

 earth for their health. They base their 

 charges for services on the amount they 

 think they can get. 



As soon as they knew 3 " Boston " men 

 (all whites are called Boston men, by the 

 Indians of the far Northwest) wished to go 



AMATEUR PHOTO BY F. J. CHURCH. 



FRANK HYASMAN, QUINAULT INDIAN. 



down the river, there was excitement 

 among them. We had new rifles and a 

 camera, so they thought we were million- 

 naires, in which they were only a million 

 dollars out of the way. 



From previous inquiry I had learned the 

 ordinary charge was $2 a day, but if the 

 bargain were made with due deliberation 

 and apparent lack of interest, we could 

 name our own figure. We interviewed^ 

 greasy and fishy fellows, who rejoiced in 

 the names of Spotted Hawk, and Sore- 



