UsikMY U. OF L VZOAZA ZZAMPAIGN 
890 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Dec. 4, 1909- 
always found on the range in a few days, but 
that did not alter their opinion in the least; 
the Indian was a thief. The Indian was not a 
thief, but he did not understand the rights of 
property as practiced by the white man. 
One season we joined a party of Indians on 
their annual fishing trip. In the waters of the 
Western streams there are two runs of salmon, 
the fish being of different kinds and the methods 
of capturing them being entirely different. The 
first run and the manner of capture I have ex¬ 
plained. The second or June run does not take 
the bait at all. This run begins when the 
snows melting in the higher mountains swell 
the streams to their flood. In the lower river 
where the water is very deep the Indians never 
attempt to take this fish. They wait until the 
salmon ascend the smaller streams where the 
water is quite clear. The salmon usually reach 
the smaller streams in late July and remain a 
month. By the middle of July the Indians 
congregate at some central point, usually the 
Weippe Meadow, and from there go in a body 
to the fishing grounds in the heart of the Bitter 
Root Mountains. 
We set out one morning in company with 
nearly all the people of our tribe. That night 
we reached and camped on the Weippe beside 
the great spring from which Lewis and Clark 
drank a hundred years ago. Hundreds of In¬ 
dians were camped about the meadow, the 
horses feeding knee-deep in the grass, the white 
tepees gleaming against the background of dark 
firs. When night came and the firelight shone 
upon the dark swarthy faces, it required but 
little imagination to transform the encampment 
into a war party bound upon an expedition of 
pillage. One became reassured, however, by 
the bursts of laughter that echoed through the 
forest aisles as some joker got off some par¬ 
ticularly side-splittin'g remark. We were the 
only palefaces in the party, and the Indians had 
grown to look upon us as themselves. The only 
difference was that they had learned not to in¬ 
trude upon our privacy; a hard lesson, for an 
Indian has no understanding of privacy. He 
feels free to enter his neighbor’s lodge at any 
time and under all conditions, and does so. 
Another thing they never could understand was 
that my wife insisted on riding her horse side- 
wise. The Indian woman rides astride; she 
would fall off if she attempted the side saddle. 
The Indian men would, sometimes throw a leg 
over their saddle and ride up to me, saying, 
“The same as your wife.” 
We never saw our hopeful from dawn until 
dark. He slept in our tepee and that was about 
all. Immediately after breakfast he would seek 
out some of his admirers, male or female, and 
when the party was ready to proceed, we would 
see him perched behind some dusky cavalier 
or copper-colored Rowena, his arms about 
them, jogging along in the greatest content¬ 
ment. 
Game was plentiful and my little rifle kept 
our table laden with grouse, while my new 
high-power rifle, then just being introduced, in 
the hands of Charley Allen kept the whole camp 
in venison, and later, as we reached the higher 
range, elk meat. The lover of outdoors who 
has never penetrated the unexplored fastnesses 
of the mountain region of many of our West¬ 
ern States has been deprived of a great treat. 
Alas! the virgin forest untrodden by the foot 
of the white man is fast disappearing, and it will 
be only a few years ere the growl of the steam 
saw eating up the great white pines and cedars 
will break the stillness a few years ago broken 
only by the growl of the bear. Much of the 
country over which we passed on that trip had 
never been explored by the white man with 
the exceptions of the early trappers, and the 
evidences of their visits had long since faded 
away. These towering mountain peaks had 
echoed only to the sound of the primitive fire¬ 
arm of the Indian, and the game was so bliss¬ 
fully ignorant of the lethal force of the modern 
bullet, that they came down upon the meadows 
at dusk and fed among the horses. Lordly elk 
in bands of twenty and more crossed the trail 
in our front not two hundred yards away, too 
indifferent to our presence to increase their 
pace. The streams were alive with trout so 
voracious that a bit of red rag tied upon the 
hook was as killing as the most deceptive 
creation of the flymaker’s art. The hillsides 
were covered with huckleberries, among which 
the bears wallowed in undisturbed content. 
Our final camp was made within the shadows 
of the range. It stood upon a knoll overlook¬ 
ing a swift clear stream, behind a cedar forest; 
upon one side a broad meadow for the horses, 
upon the other the grim shoulder of Pot Moun¬ 
tain. As this was to be a permanent camp, the 
arrangements were made accordingly. The 
ground was cleared of all undergrowth, scraped 
down to the solid earth and sprinkled, and 
while still damp from the sprinkling, the women 
with blocks pounded the earth down solid. 
The tepee was then erected and a ditch dug 
about it to drain off the water in case of rain. 
Thus treated, the inside of the tepee is free 
from dampness. A few days were spent in get¬ 
ting ready for the actual fishing. 
The fish were not yet all arrived, and it was 
necessary to be prepared to .take care of them 
when they did arrive. Wood was the prime 
necessity and all hands busied themselves in 
procuring it. This getting the wood may seem 
a small thing. You may ask why they did not 
cut down one of the great dead fire-killed trees 
that stood all about. From the very excellent 
reason that they did not have the tools to do 
it with. We had the only ax in the camp, and 
it would hardly haggle off a tepee pole. They 
skirmished the timber and gathered sticks, 
tying them in bundles and carrying the bundles 
into camp on their backs. I never could under¬ 
stand why they would insist upon loading them¬ 
selves down with a cartload of Wood when 
innumerable pack horses stood around doing 
nothing. The ways of the savage are past 
finding out. All this labor was performed by 
the women, the men were too busy looking 
for the coming fish to engage in any such 
menial duties. The fishing tackle, too, had to be 
overhauled. That took about thirty minutes, 
but it was a man’s occupation. 
The fishing gear consists of a long slim pole 
tapering to a point at the smaller end. About 
two feet from the lower end a stout cord of 
deer sinew is attached. This sinew passes on 
down and is inserted in the back of a stout 
hook with a ferrule on its shank. The hook is 
driven securely upon the tapering end of the 
pole in such manner that when the fish is 
hooked the hook will pull off and allow the 
short piece of cord for playing him. The 
manner of catching them is as follows: Ihe 
fisher strips and wades out into the stream, 
lowers the hook to the bottom, the current 
carries it down, and as it does so, the fisher 
gives the pole regular sharp pulls. The salmon 
lying near the bottom sees the pole coming 
and simply rises in the water enough to allow 
it to pass under him. The sharp hook is jerked 
into his belly and the hook slips from the pole. 
The savage turns his back, puts the pole over 
his shoulder and walks ashore with the helpless 
fish protesting behind. 
All was in readiness. The drying frames were 
repaired where the winter’s snows had broken 
them down. The wood was collected and piled 
in immense heaps along the shore, the flaying 
knives sharpened to a keen edge, and most 
important of all, the salmon were beginning to 
arrive in great numbers. It is no exaggera¬ 
tion to say that one could sit upon the shore 
and looking down into the clear water, count 
hundreds of them. 1 
With the coming of night the camp was all 
excitement. The fires were lighted on the 
shore. The fishermen stripped and came down 
to the water, tackle in hand. Other Indians 
went up and down the stream for several rods 
and threw stones in the water for the purpose 
of causing the salmon to all congregate in the 
pool selected for the fishing. When the flames 
lighted up the dark forest aisles the fishers 
waded into the water, lowered their gaffs and 
began their labors. It was not long before one 
was hooked, then another and another, then 
so fast that you could hardly keep count. The 
fish were dragged ashore, jerked from the hook 
and the fisherman hurried back. In less than an 
hour the sandy beach was covered with salmon. 
The fires burned low, the pool seemed gleaned 
of all the fish, and the fishers, now cold and : 
tired, retired to their tepees, leaving the scene 
to the women. All night the women flayed' 
the fish and lay them on the frames ready for 
the drying fires the next day. Each night was 
but a replica of the previous one. It was fish, 
fish, fish, until the very air reeked with the smell 
of fish. This same smell, by the way, attracted 
the bears, and they came down from the hills 
to investigate. I sat on a rock a mile from 
the camp with my rifle and bagged a bear; 
whenever I so desired, and there was just about? 
as much excitement and danger in the operation 1 
as there, is in shooting a woodchuck off the! 
stone fence on the Vermont homestead. I 
The bears are very fond of fish and at this! 
season of the year devote much of their time 
to catching them. Old male salmon that have' 
become tired from the constant buffeting over 
the rocks on their up-river journey and sore! 
from their wounds received in battle—for the 
male salmon is a very pugnacious animal—lay 
in the shallow water in an eddy in the sun and 
basked. In these places bruin found them, and 
no animal is softer footed than he in stalking 
his game. He got down stream from the bask¬ 
ing fish, and slipping into the water crept upon! 
the unsuspecting fish like a mousing cat. When 
within reach, with one lightning sweep of his; 
powerful paw, he sent the salmon spinning out 
on the bank, where he devoured him at leisure. 
Many times I sat above the water and watchedj 
the fighting of the salmon. Two males met, and 1 
like two dogs, immediately picked a quarrel. 
There was evidently nothing to quarrel about. 
