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In Sahaptin Land 
IV.- 
The Autumn Salmon Spearing—Chief 
<J oseph—Legends— C onclusion 
By CHARLES S. MOODY 
T HERE remains yet one element in the In¬ 
dian’s food problem to relate. It will be 
understood that the Indian does not hunt 
and fish with the idea of enjoyment. Existence 
for him is one struggle for food, and what to 
us means sport to him means hard work to fill 
the larder. In the waters of the Kooskia and 
its larger tributaries there dwell at ad seasons 
large salmon trout. These fish are at times 
twenty pounds in weight and many of them 
weigh ten pounds. 
With the advent of winter and the cold 
weather the waters fall and the streams become 
so clear that small objects in ten feet of water 
become perfectly visible. It is then that the 
savage makes ready to reap the harvest of the 
river. -• His wife seeks out on the hillside a 
burnt pine snag that is very resinous and pro¬ 
ceeds to fell it with many laborious blows of 
her dull hatchet. Once it is down she splits 
it with infinite patience and toil into little billets, 
and wrapping them in her head harness carries 
them to the boat landing where her liege lord 
has been busy with his end of the affair. He 
has constructed midway of one side of the canoe 
a platform two feet square projecting over the 
gunwale, and this he covers with earth several 
inches deep. The squaw now builds upon this 
platform a cone of her rich pine billets, stand¬ 
ing them endwise and binding them together 
with green willow withes. This cone is six or 
more feet in height and is at least two feet at 
the base. Several stones are placed in the canoe 
on the opposite side to counterba’ance the cone. 
The savage has gotten out his fishing spear 
and made it ready. This instrument is con¬ 
structed upon peculiarly Indian lines and is no 
doubt the outgrowth of centuries of evolution 
in the art of fishing. It is now made of steel, 
but there are yet in existence many that are 
made from the flexible ribs of the deer or elk. 
It is almost impossible to convey an idea in 
words of the form of this spear. A shaft six¬ 
teen feet long is fitted at its larger end with a 
sharp spike six inches long. On either side of 
the shaft are securely bound two flat pieces of 
spring steel three feet long, the lower ends of 
. which project below the central spike at least 
a foot. Upon these steel springs are hooks with 
their points looking inward and almost meeting 
below the center spike. Once impaled upon this 
machine a fish is helpless. There is no possi¬ 
bility of escape. The whole machine is quite 
heavy, so that it will sink readily in the swift 
current. 
All was in readiness. Night fell and it was 
very dark. The Indian and his woman launched 
the canoe and she took up the paddle. He stood 
amidships behind the cone, which he lighted at 
the top. In a short time it began to blaze and 
lighted up the whole river in that locality. More, 
it alighted the water and rendered objects on 
the bottom peculiarly distinct. The fish lying 
on the bottom showed up as white as milk. The 
light seemed to blind the fish and they remained 
perfectly still. The canoe, turned broadside to 
the current, floated over the fish and the Indian 
with the shaft of his spear half way in the 
water watched intently. Gradually he lowered 
the spear until it was right over the resting fish, 
then with a quick downward thrust he impaled 
it. The two springs spread on either side and 
when once over the center of the body closed 
again and drove their sharp hooks into the flesh. 
Using the gunwale of the canoe as a fulcrum 
the savage hoisted the struggling fish out of 
the water and deposited it in the bottom of the 
craft. The squaw with great skill and expedi¬ 
tion removed the captive and the Indian once 
more turned to the water^ This process was re¬ 
peated many times during the night, or until 
the torch had burned down to a mere heap of 
coals. 
I often joined the savages in this occupation 
and it was a long time before I learned 
the trick of correctly judging distance under 
water. My attempts at securing a fish were 
amusing in the extreme. One sees a large sal¬ 
mon lying on the bottom and it looks as white 
as snow and no more than a few feet beneath 
the surface. One makes a vicious lunge at it 
with his spear to find that what seemes only a 
few feet was in reality ten or fifteen. Then 
one makes a scramble to keep from falling over¬ 
board. Again one strikes a fish, as an Indian 
friend of mine once did while going over a 
rapid, and before he can recover is hurled into 
the icy water by the impact of the canoe against 
the spear handle. 
We were fishing in a long still stretch of 
river and our success had not been of the best. 
At length my Indian companion suggested that 
we try the lower reach. Pulling ashore, we 
trimmed the torch until it burned brightly. I 
was at the paddle and we pushed out into the 
stream. There was a half mile of extremely 
rough water between the two pools. At his sug¬ 
gestion I threw the canoe half across the cur¬ 
rent so that he could see by means of the light 
for several yards down stream. When we had 
covered about half the distance we saw a large 
trout coming up the swift water. When he was 
nearly beneath the canoe my companion thrust 
him with the spear. The water was only three 
or four feet deep, but it was swift as a mill 
race. In an instant the rushing canoe struck 
the spear handle and my savage friend executed 
a parabola into the icy water of the Kooskia. 
It was impossible to stop the canoe and pick 
him up. I shot away from him like an arrow, 
leaving him in the darkness to get ashore as 
best he could. When I reached the still water 
I turned the canoe and ran into an eddy near 
the rapid. I shouted and to my surprise got 
an answer right at my elbow. I glanced down 
and my friend was swimming toward the canoe, 
dragging the pole of the spear after him. He 
caught the gunwale. I swung to the opposite 
side to balance and he scrambled in, fetching 
the salmon with him. We went ashore, where 
he dried his clothing over a fire, and we re¬ 
sumed our occupation, he none the worse for 
his bath. 
In due time I formed the acquaintance of 
Chief Joseph. After the defeat of the hostiles 
in 1877 by General Miles in the Bear Paw Moun¬ 
tains the Government, after taking from the 
Indians their homes, exiled them to a reserva¬ 
tion in the Indian Territory. This was done 
evidently for the purpose of killing them off in 
a manner a little less merciful than shooting 
them. In fourteen months over half of them 
died, then the Government awoke to a realiza¬ 
tion that if the Indians were allowed to remain 
longer in that climate in a few years there would 
be none of them alive. They were therefore 
bundled up and shipped back to the Colville 
Reservation where conditions were more nearly 
those to which they had been accustomed. After 
some years the Government allowed Joseph to 
visit his old home and even spend some weeks 
each year in the territory over which he once 
exercised dominion. 
An Indian and I were riding along the road 
when we saw an Indian on horseback approach¬ 
ing us. He had so much the appearance of 
one of the Indian Presbyterian ministers that I 
paid little attention to him. After he had passed 
with the usual salutation, my friend turned to 
me and asked: 
“Do you know who that is?” 
“No.” was my reply. 
“That was Chief Joseph.” 
So that was Chief Joseph, eh! I turned in 
