Where Rolls the Kooskia 
A Story of Primitive Times and People and of 
Abundant Game 
Part I. 
By CHARLES STUART MOODY 
M ORE than one hundred years ago Lewis 
and Clark stood upon the crest of the 
Bitter Root Mountains in the Lo Lo 
Pass. They looked toward the western sunset 
and then plunged down into the vast forest- 
covered basin of the Kooskia. For two weeks 
they struggled through the wilderness, to emerge 
half starved and footsore upon the Weippe, the 
first white men to cross from east to west what 
is now known as the Panhandle of Idaho. 
Thirty-two years ago General Howard led his 
army across nearly the same route, following 
the fleeing Chief Joseph and his band of hostile 
warriors. Since that time a few white men have 
penetrated the region, and these have deemed 
it wise to keep near the beaten path for cen¬ 
turies used by the Indians as a highway between 
their country and the buffalo country of the 
great plains. 
The interior of the Idaho Panhandle is a won¬ 
derful country—one almost unknown. It is to¬ 
day perhaps the greatest big-game country in the 
United States. Since the Government has placed 
a great portion of it in the National forest and 
the rangers are beginning to make trails through 
it, only a few years will pass before it becomes 
better known. It will ever be the country of 
the big-game hunter—the man equal to the hard¬ 
ships of mountain life. While the rivers teem 
with trout and the hills and alder thickets are 
alive with small game, the dilettante hunter and 
fisher will hardly dare invade the country, re¬ 
mote as it is from modern hotel accommoda¬ 
tions. There are no opportunities for wearing 
evening dress and affecting fine sporting togs. 
Uncle Sam has thrown his protecting arm about 
the region and our grandchildren may expect to 
see the great old forests in much the same con¬ 
dition as to-day, save that the hardships of 
reaching them will be somewhat lessened. 
The average woodsloafer. familiar with the 
toy, make-believe mountains of the East, can 
form only a faint idea of the immensity of the 
region drained by the various branches of the 
Kooskia. Practically all the country is com¬ 
prised in the counties of Shoshone, Nez Perce 
and Idaho, and it is greater in extent than the 
whole of the State of New York. It is a coun¬ 
try of towering mountains, many of them capped 
with eternal snows, fathomless canons, in whose 
depths run darkling rivers, great upland swamps 
covered knee deep with water and overgrown 
with dense thickets of vine maple and alder. 
Except on the very summits of the mounta.ns 
the country is clothed with a deep growth of 
white and yellow pine, cedar, larch and hem¬ 
lock, matted beneath with vines and brambles. 
Only the savages know the devious wind ngs 
of the dim trails that traverse this country, and 
if one would explore the region he must follow 
their guidance. Otherwise he may not get very 
far from the main artery, the Lo Lo trail. For¬ 
age for horses is scarce and it is no fight cas¬ 
ualty to have one’s animals die from starvation 
in a country where no white man lives. 
Some years ago, with a single companion, I 
spent nearly the entire summer in this country. 
My companion was Charley Adams ,-Hom-tits- 
scckuin (Race Plorse), a half-breed Indian of 
the Nez Perce tribe, a people among whom at 
the time I made my home. I became acquainted 
with him soon after my advent among the In¬ 
dians and between us there sprang up a friend¬ 
ship that was both sincere and lasting. Charley 
is lean, tireless, sinewjc Silent, even morose at 
times, as Indians are, slow to speak, but like 
lightening to act. A stranger to fear, yet with 
a heart as loving and tender as a woman’s. To 
those who deem all Indians incapable of the 
higher sentiments I commend Charley Adams. 
Charley was born on the Kooskia and his 
whole life has been spent in the mountains of 
the Kooskia watershed. No man knows tha' 
country better than he. Every trail, every camp¬ 
ing place where grass may be found, every 
water course, every pass in the bids are to him 
as familiar as his own lodge. Like all his peo¬ 
ple. however, he is loth to sell his knowledge. 
The Nez Perce is not a menial. He scorns the 
proffer of wages for his labor. If he chances 
to be your friend he will do anything you ask 
him without price, but if you are a stranger he 
will suffer hunger and privation rather than per¬ 
form menial service. 
For some years it had been my desire to spend 
a time in the mountains. I often spoke to 
Char’ey about it and asked him to become my 
guide, but for some unaccountable Indian reason 
he had always refused. Time ran along for 
several years and it seemed that my desire to 
penetrate the fastness of the upper Kooskia 
would never be gratified, but one spring an inci¬ 
dent occurred that made the trip possible. In 
my capacity as surgeon it became my duty to 
attend the Indians in their sickness and distress. 
Mrs. Adams, my friend's .wife, was a full blood. 
One day she became very ill and Charley came 
for me in great haste. 1 appeared on the scene 
and found the estimable woman very ill; in¬ 
deed, she was in great danger. Her life was 
despaired of. When I announced that it was a 
grave case, there was great lamentation in Nez 
Perce laud. They at once thought the young 
sikipiuat (myself) unequal to the task, and 
insisted upon sending for the lu-at (medicine 
man), though but few of the Indians believed 
in his incantations. To this proposal I de¬ 
murred. I told them that this was not a case 
for the tn-at; it required skill. I was inclined 
to doubt my skill, but Airs. Moody and I took 
hold of the case and brought all our combined 
energies to bear. To our surprise and gratifica¬ 
tion the good woman recovered. I have never 
been able to say just how much we accomplished, 
and how much credit we must give to nature. 
No matter; we got the credit, and among these 
people my professional stock jumped to far 
above par. One of the babies was named for 
my wife, one for me. “Some are born great, 
some achieve greatness and some have great¬ 
ness thrust upon them.” When the census 
enumerator visited that country he was no doubt 
surprised at the number of Indian children bear¬ 
ing two certain names. 
Charley was so grateful for his wife's recovery 
that he volunteered to become my guide into the 
mountains at any time I should elect to accom¬ 
pany him. Not only would he lead the way, but 
he would put at my disposal all the necessary 
horses. This in itself was no small matter, for 
horses were scarce. I accepted the invitation 
and set the time for our departure late in July. 
No sooner was the trip noised abroad than 
every Indian on the reservation volunteered to 
become a member of the party. Had I chosen 
to do so T could have filed out of that village 
at the head of every able-bodied warrior in the 
tribe, but one companion was sufficient. I like 
Indians. I am a'most an Indian myself for that 
matter. That is why I do not want too many 
of them along when I go on a trip. 
The principal part of getting ready consisted 
in breaking two saddle horses that had not be¬ 
fore been ridden. .Taming a wild cayuse—all 
Indian horses are called cayuses to distinguish 
them from the larger American horses—is a 
labor that would fall under Mr. Roosevelt’s 
classification, “strenuous.” A 900-pound pinto 
cayuse with one glass eye can furnish a man 
the strenuous life for just a few days longer 
