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FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Nov. 27, 1909. 
One of them in investigating had started a 
small red squirrel, and others joined the chorus. 
In a frantic effort to escape, the squirrel ran 
up a small tree and jumped upon the window 
sill and with the next leap alighted fairly upon 
the uncovered head of the kneeling parson. He 
did not pause in his devotions nor did the little 
animal tarry long, for the dog was right behind 
him. In an instant after the squirrel left his 
perch a little white wooly excited dog flew 
through the same window and alighted with a 
grunt in the exact spot vacated only an instant 
before by the squirrel. An American congre¬ 
gation would have found some means of bottling 
up its mirth. There would have been a great flut¬ 
tering of hymn books and the utilizing of many 
cambric handkerchiefs, but with these children 
of the forest it was different; they simply 
abandoned themselves to their glee. The 
minister’s face relaxed in a broad smile and re¬ 
marked that the squirrel evidently knew that 
the house of God was the proper place to come 
for protection, and knowing that, supposed the 
safest place in that house was upon the head of 
the pastor. 
The Indian conception of a joke may some¬ 
times entail a hardship. After I had been some 
time among them and had so far learned the 
language as to be able to dispense with the 
services of an interpreter, but not so as to 
understand the finer shades of meaning, an In¬ 
dian came to me one afternoon and, as I sup¬ 
posed, told me that a man was sick and pos¬ 
sibly dead. I also understood from his re¬ 
marks that the man was a long way in the 
mountains, and that he wanted me to ac- 
conrpany him thither. I immediately caught 
and saddled my horse, procured my emergency 
bag and set out. It was about 2 p. m. when we 
left the settlement, and all the afternoon we 
toiled up the steep canon side. My dusky guide 
kept chuckling to himself all the way, and his 
answers to my questions regarding the sick 
man were very evasive. Just before dark we 
reached a large upland meadow around which 
the trail ran. We left the trail and crossed 
this meadow to a point where a dense clump of 
black pine stood. Right at the border of this 
forest lay a gigantic elk. The rascal pointed 
it out to me and told me that was the sick man, 
then went off into a fit of laughter. It all came 
about by my confusing the Indian word for elk 
with the word for man, and the word for sick 
with that for dead. That savage knew all along 
where the mistake was, but to him, whose 
time was not worth anything, it was a huge 
joke to drag me half a day’s journey into the 
mountains on a wild goose chase. There was 
no malice in the thing at all. He simply was 
teaching me his language in the most practical 
manner possible; and I was too wise to show 
any anger if indeed, I felt any. A present of a 
quarter of the meat and as fine a head of 
antlers as I ever saw was the earnest of his 
good will. It was many a long day. however, 
before they ceased asking me if I did not 
want to go up in the mountains to see a 
sick man. 
They are great practical jokers and never tire 
of perpetrating some “sell” on each other and 
upon their friends; in fact, as a proof of their 
.friendship, they will make you the victim of 
their jokes. They soon learned that my wife 
was startled by the sudden appearance of one 
of them. She might be busy about the house 
work, never supposing an Indian to be about, 
when she would turn round and confront one 
standing right at her elbow. She would not 
have been a woman if she had not screamed, and 
that would amuse the savage immensely. It is 
astounding with what facility they can approach 
you without your being aware of it. I have 
been so situated that I would have been willing 
to swear that an Indian could not approach me 
without my seeing him, then have looked up to 
find one with his blanket wrapped about him 
seriously contemplating my labor. In the hunt¬ 
ing fields they can take advantage of the 
smallest possible means of concealment. This 
accounts in a great measure for the ability of 
the Indian in time of war to approach his enemy 
without detection. That, and the fact that 
human beings are very much like animals; 
they do not see outside of a limited radius. 
The Indian knows what that radius is with re¬ 
gard to his game and applies the same rule to 
his human enemy, and it works. 
The Sahaptin is somewhat chary of his friend¬ 
ships. He will admit you into the outer 
portals of his regard, but the inner sanctuary 
is opened only to those whom he has found 
worthy. The man who boasts of having formed 
the undying friendship of an Indian on a 
moment’s notice is either lying or else has 
deceived himself. I can recall the day and al¬ 
most the hour when I succeeded in breaking 
through the crust of reserve and reaching their 
inner confidences. They had all along treated 
us with the greatest courtesy and kindness, but 
it was plain to be seen that we were still con¬ 
sidered as foreigners, and until we had been 
tried in the crucible of their regard, we were 
not to be of them. 
It was the spring of our arrival. With the 
melting of the foothill snows the river rose, and 
with it came the run of salmon. This is a great 
event in Sahaptin land. Coming as it does on 
the heels of winter, when the provisions are all 
short, the savages hail it with delight as a di¬ 
rect interposition of Providence in their behalf. 
A swift courier is sent down the river early in 
the spring, whose duty it is to watch for the 
coming salmon and procure from the natives 
there a supply of roe for bait. For a week the 
Indians had been watching anxiously for the 
return of the courier, when one evening we 
heard a great uproar among them. My wife 
thought that nothing short of an outbreak of 
hostilities or a dog fight could produce so much 
noise, and she rather inclined to the dog fight 
idea. At any rate, we would go and find out. 
We did. It was the courier returned bearing 
with him the intelligence that the salmon were 
coming. More to the point, he bore with him 
the precious eggs, without which the fish could 
not be taken. 
The messenger deserves more than passing 
notice. He was a stalwart young fellow over 
six feet, slim and erect as a pine. He wore 
nothing but a breech clout and moccasins, but 
one did not realize the scantiness of his attire, 
so well proportioned was he. He had left the 
lower waters over ninety miles away the evening 
before at dusk, and had reached home without 
pausing for food or rest. This was necessary 
in order to convey the roe in as fresh condition 
as possible, else the salmon will not feed upon 
it. The bait itself was carried securely wrapped 
in fresh boughs of fir which were moistened 
from time to time. 
The next morning the tackle was all gotten 
out and repaired, the log canoes overhauled 
and their seams stopped with pitch. A nimble 
warrior had already clambered among the clefts 
in the cliffs and procured a supply of the roots 
of the sweet cicely, without which no Indian 
will attempt to fish. With a paddle the master 
fisherman of the people bruises a mass of these 
roots, and with the juice anointed his line, 
pole, and the bow of the canoe. Another mass 
was bruised, and upon it was placed the precious 
roe. All being in readiness, the canoe was 
manned by two capable paddlers whose duty it 
was to keep the canoe in trim. In the bow 
stood the man selected to catch the fish. With 
a few powerful strokes of the paddles the canoe 
shot out upon the still but swift stream. Whirl¬ 
ing the baited hook about his head, the fisher¬ 
man cast it forth with a prayer for success to 
the god of the chase. The banks were lined 
with dark anxious faces, intently watching the 
canoe and its occupants. 
The craft was turned sidewise to the current, 
and the man with the pole stood like some 
bronze image. Down the river they glided, 
now opposite the ferry, now abreast of the 
great cottonwood on the bank, now where they 
could feel the influence of the current of the 
Kooskooskia and see the dark-brown line mark¬ 
ing the muddy water of that stream. It was use- • 
less to go further. With a sweep of ihe paddles the 
canoe shot into an eddy and they lay aside the 
paddles for long poles and propelled the vessel 1 
back up the stream almost as fast as a man 
can walk. Once more they swung out into the 
current and once more the fisherman cast his 
line. This time he did not cast in vain. The 1 
bronze statue came suddendy to life. The In¬ 
dians strained forward like hunting dogs in 
leash. Every muscle in the fisherman’s body 
was a tense steel spring only waiting the will 
to release it. The next instant he swept his 
pole in the arc of a great circle, cutting the 
water like a knife with the line and sinking the 
barbed hook deep into the bony jaws of a great 
salmon. The battle was on. Balancing himself 
with marvelous skill in the frail canoe, he 
fought that big fish with the skill of a past- 
master at the art. His principal duty seemed 
to be to keep the line taut and thus tire the fish 
out. The paddlers had an important duty to 
perform. The fish was frantic in his desire to 
run under the boat and thus tear the hook 
from his jaws. This the paddlers prevented by 
whirling the canoe around by powerful sweeps 
of the paddles applied at the exact moment. 
Brute strength cannot prevail against human 
judgment, even if it be Indian judgment, and 
the contest had but one ending. Even such a 
novice as I am could see that the struggles of 
the fish were becoming weaker, its frantic 
rushes less forceful. Shortly there was the glint 
down in the water of a white body darting 
hither and thither. The fish was turning on his 
side now, and when that happens its fighting 
power is about exhausted. One of the paddlers 
stooped and picked up the gaff, holding it 
ready in his hand. The fish came to the sur¬ 
face and floated on his side; the Indian reached 
over, slipped the gaff beneath it and gave a 
sharp pull, and with a feeble struggle or two the 
great body was hauled inboard. The fisherman 
