Blazing The Way Part 37

"Leschi, like many citizens during the struggle for secession, appealed to his instincts--his attachment to his tribe--his desire, at the same time to conform to the requirements of the whites, which to many of his people were repulsive and incompatible. He decided and struck heavy blows against us with his warriors. Since then we have learned a lesson.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A FEW ARTIFACTS OF PUGET SOUND INDIANS]

"Gen. Lee inflicted on the Union army heavy losses of life and destruction of property belonging to individuals. When he surrendered his sword agreeing to return to his home and become a law-abiding citizen, Gen. Grant protected him and his paroled army from the vengeance of men who sought to make treason odious. This was in 1866 and but the repet.i.tion of the Indian war of 1856.

"Col. Geo. Wright, commanding the department of the Columbia, displayed such an overwhelming force in the Klickitat country that it convinced the hostile Indians of the hopelessness of pursuing war to a successful issue, and when they asked the terms of peace, Col. Wright directed them to return to their former homes, be peaceful and obey the orders of the Indian agents sent by our government to take charge of them, and they would be protected by the soldiers.

"The crimes of war cannot be atoned by crimes in cold blood after the war. Two wrongs do not make a right.

"Leschi, though shrewd and daring in war, adopted Col. Wright's directions, dropped hostilities, laid aside his rifle and repaired to Puget Sound, his home.

"Like Lee, he was ent.i.tled to protection from the officers and soldiers. But Leschi, on the Sound, feared the enmity of the whites, and gave himself up to Dr. Tolmie, an old friend, at Nesqually--not captured by two Indians of his own tribe and delivered up. Then began a crusade against Leschi for all the crimes of his people in war.

"On the testimony of a perjured man, whose testimony was demonstrated, by a survey of the route claimed by the deponent, to be a falsehood, he was found guilty by the jury, not of the offense alleged against him, for it was physically impossible for Leschi to be at the two points indicated in the time alleged; hence he was a martyr to the vengeance of unforgiving white men."

I remember having seen the beautiful pioneer woman spoken of in the following account first published in a Seattle paper. The Castos were buried in the old burying ground in a corner next the road we traveled from our ranch to school.

This is the article, head-lines and all:

"John Bonser's Death Recalls an Indian Ma.s.sacre.

Beautiful Abbie Casto's Fate.

How Death Came Upon Three Pioneers of Squak Valley--Swift Vengeance on the Murderers.

"The death of John Bonser, one of the earliest pioneers of Oregon, at Sauvie's Island, near Portland, recently, recalls one of the bloodiest tragedies that ever occurred in King County and one which will go down in history as the greatest example the pioneers had of the evil effect of giving whisky to the Indians.

The event is memorable for another reason, and that is that the daughter of John Bonser, wife of William Casto, and probably the most beautiful woman in the territory, was a victim.

"'I don't take much stock in the handsome, charming women we read about,' said C. B. Bagley yesterday, 'but Mrs. Casto, if placed in Seattle today with face and form as when she came among us in 1864, would be among the handsomest women in the city, and I shall never forget the sensation created in our little settlement when messengers arrived from Squak valley, where the Castos moved, with the news that Mrs. Casto, her husband and John Holstead had been killed by Indians, and that a friendly Klickitat had slain the murderers.

"The first impression was that there had been an uprising among the treacherous natives and a force, consisting of nearly all the able-bodied men in the community, started for the scene of the ma.s.sacre.

"It is a hard matter for the people of metropolitan Seattle to carry themselves back, figuratively speaking, to 1864, and imagine the village of that period with its thirty families.

"The boundaries were limited to a short and narrow line extending along the water front not farther north than Pike Street. The few houses were small and unpretentious and the business portion of the town was confined to Commercial Street, between Main and Yesler Avenue.

"At that time and even after the great fire in 1889, Yesler Avenue was known as Mill Street, the name having originated from the fact that Yesler's mill was located at its foot. Where the magnificent Dexter Horton bank building now stands stood a small wooden structure occupied by Dexter Horton as a store, and where the National Bank of Commerce building, at the corner of Yesler Avenue and Commercial Street, stood the mill store of the Yesler-Denny Company. S. B. Hinds, a name forgotten in commercial circles, kept store on Commercial Street, between Was.h.i.+ngton and Main Streets. Charles Plummer was at the corner of Main and Commercial, and J. R. Williamson was on the east side of Commercial Street, a half block north. This comprised the entire list of stores at that time. The forests were the only source to which the settlers looked for commercial commodities, and these, when put in salable shape, were often-times compelled to await means of transportation to markets. Briefly summed up, spars, piles, lumber and hop-poles were about all the sources of income.

"At that time there was no 'blue book,' and, in fact women were scarce. It is not surprising then that the arrival of William Casto, a man aged 38 years and a true representative of the Kentucky colonel type, with his young wife, the daughter of John Bonser, of Sauvies Island, Columbia River, near Portland, should have been a memorable occasion. Mrs. Casto was a natural not an artificial beauty--one of those women to whom all apparel adapts itself and becomes a part of the wearer. Every movement was graceful and her face one that an artist would have raved about--not that dark, imperious beauty that some might expect, but the exact opposite. Her eyes were large, blue and expressive, while her complexion, clear as alabaster, was rendered more attractive by a rosy hue. She was admired by all and fairly wors.h.i.+pped by her husband. It was one of those rare cases where disparity in ages did not prevent mutual devotion.

"In the spring of the year that Casto came to Seattle he took up a ranch in the heart of Squak valley, where the Tibbetts farm now lies. Here he built a small house, put in a garden and commenced clearing. In order to create an income for himself and wife he opened a small trading post and carried on the manufacture of hoop poles. The valley was peculiarly adapted to this business, owing to the dense growth of hazel bush, the very article most desired.

"'Casto did most of his trading with San Francisco merchants and frequently received as much as $1,500 for a single s.h.i.+pment. Such a business might be laughed at in 1893, but at that time it meant a great deal to a spa.r.s.ely settled community where wealth was largely prospective. It is a notable fact that, even in the early days when North Seattle was a howling wilderness and large game ran wild between the town limits and Lake Was.h.i.+ngton, the advantages of that body of water were appreciated and a successful effort was made by Henry L. Yesler, L. V. Wyckoff and others to connect the one with the other by a wagon road. The lake terminus was at a point called Fleaburg, now known as the terminus of the Madison Street cable line. Fleaburg was a small Indian settlement, and according to tradition derived its name from innumerable insects that made life miserable for the inhabitants and visitors. The many miles of travel this cut saved was greatly appreciated by the Squak settlers, because it was not only to their advantage in a commercial sense, but also made them feel that they were much nearer to the mother settlement. Another short cut was made by means of a foot path starting from Coal Creek on the eastern sh.o.r.e of the lake. This was so rough that only persons well acquainted with the country would have taken advantage of it. While it was not practical, yet it furnished means of reaching the settlement, in case of necessity, in one day, whereas the water route took twice as long.

"'Even at that time the great fear of the settlers, who were few in number, was the Indians. If a young man in Seattle went hunting his mother cautioned him to 'be very careful of the Indians.' Many people now living in or about the city will remember that in the fall of 1864 there were fears of an Indian uprising. How the rumors started or on what they were founded would be hard to state, nevertheless the fact remains that there was a general feeling of uneasiness. During the summer there had been trouble on the Snohomish River between white men and members of the Snohomish tribe. Three of the latter were killed, and among them a chief. These facts alone would have led a person well versed in the characteristics of the Was.h.i.+ngton Indian to look for trouble of some kind, although to judge from what direction and in what manner would have been difficult.

"'Casto at that time had several of the Snohomish Indians working for him, but the thought of fear never entered his mind. He had great influence over his workmen and was looked up to by them as a sort of white 'tyee' or chief. Any one that knew Casto could not but like him, he was so free-hearted, kind and considerate of every person he met, whether as a friend and equal or as his servant. He had one fault, however, which goes hand in hand the world over with a free heart--he loved liquor and now and then drank too much. He also got in the habit of giving it to the Indians in his employ. On several occasions the true Indian nature, under the influence of stimulants, came out, and it required all his authority to avoid bloodshed. His neighbors, who could be numbered on the fingers of both hands, with some to spare, cautioned him not to give 'a redskin whisky and arouse the devil,' but he laughed at them, and when they warned him of treachery, thought they spoke nonsense. He would not believe that the men whom he treated so kindly and befriended in every conceivable manner would do him harm under any conditions. He reasoned that his neighbors did not judge the character of the native correctly and underestimated his influence. There was no reason why he should not give his Indians liquor if he so desired.

"'He acted on this decision on the afternoon of November 7, 1864, and then went to his home for supper. The Indians got gloriously drunk and then commenced to thirst for blood. In the crowd were two of the Snohomish tribe, bloodthirsty brutes, and still seeking revenge for the death of their tribesmen and chief on the Snohomish river the summer previous. Their resolve was made.

Casto's life would atone for that of the chief, his wife and friend, John Holstead, for the other two. They secretly took their guns and went to Casto's house. The curtain of the room wherein all three were seated at the supper table was up, and the breast of Casto was in plain view of the a.s.sa.s.sins. There was no hesitation on the part of the Indians. The first shot crashed through the window and pierced Casto in a vital spot. He arose to his feet, staggered and fell upon a lounge. His wife sprang to his a.s.sistance, but the rifle spoke again and she fell to the floor. The third shot hit Holstead, but not fatally, and the Indians, determined to complete their b.l.o.o.d.y work, ran to the front door. They were met by Holstead, who fought like a demon, but at length fell, his body stabbed in more than twenty places.

Not content with the slaughter already done, the bloodthirsty wretches drove their knives into the body of Casto's beautiful wife in a manner most inhuman. Having finished their b.l.o.o.d.y work of revenge they left the house, never for a moment thinking their lives were in danger. In this particular they made a fatal error.

"The shots fired had attracted a Klickitat Indian named Aleck to the scene. As fate had it, he was a true friend to the white man and held Casto, his employer, in high regard. It took him but a brief period to comprehend the situation, and he determined to avenge the death of his master, wife and friend. He concealed himself, and when the b.l.o.o.d.y brutes came out of the house he crept up behind them. One shot was enough to end the earthly career of one, but the other took to his heels. Aleck followed him with a hatchet he had drawn from his belt, and, being fleeter of foot, caught up. Then with one swift blow the skull of the fleeing Indian was cleft, and as he fell headlong to the ground Aleck jumped on him, and again and again the b.l.o.o.d.y hatchet drank blood until the head that but a few minutes before had human shape looked like a chipped pumpkin.

"While this series of b.l.o.o.d.y deeds was being enacted the few neighbors became wild with alarm, and, thinking that an Indian war had broken out, started for Seattle immediately. The band was made up of a Mr. Bush and family and three or four single men who had ranches in the valley.

"They reached Seattle the morning of the 9th and told the news, stating their fears of an Indian uprising. A party consisting of all the able-bodied men in the town immediately started for the scene of the tragedy by the short cut, and arrived there in the evening. The sight that met their eyes was horrible. In the bushes was found the body of the Indian who had been shot, and not far distant were the remains of the other, covered with blood and dirt mixed. In the house the sight was even more horrible.

Holstead lay in the front room in a pool of clotted blood, his body literally punctured with knife wounds, and in the adjoining room, on a sofa, half reclining, was the body of Casto. On the floor, almost in the middle of the room, was Mrs. Casto, beautiful even in death, and lying in a pool of blood.

"The coroner at that time was Josiah Settle, and he, after looking around and investigating, found that the only witnesses he had were an old squaw, who claimed to have been an eye witness to the tragedy, and Aleck, the Klickitat. The inquest was held immediately, and the testimony agreed in substance with facts previously stated. The jury then returned the following verdict:

"'Territory of Was.h.i.+ngton, County of King, before Josiah Settle, Coroner.

"'We, the undersigned jurors summoned to appear before Josiah Settle, the coroner of King county, at Squak, on the 9th day of November, 1864, to inquire into the cause of death of William Casto, Abbie Casto and John Holstead, having been duly sworn according to law, and having made such inquisition after inspecting the bodies and hearing the testimony adduced, upon our oath each and all do say that we find that the deceased were named William Casto, Abbie Casto and John Holstead; that William Casto was a native of Kentucky, Abbie Casto was formerly a resident of Sauvies Island, Columbia county, Ore., and John Holstead was a native of Wheeling, Va., and that they came to their deaths on the 7th of November, 1864, in this county, by knives and pistols in the hands of Indians, the bodies of the deceased having been found in the house of William Casto, at Squak, and we further find that we believe John Taylor and George, his brother, Indians of the Snoqualmie tribe, to have been the persons by whose hands they came to their deaths.'

"The bodies were brought to Seattle and buried in what is now known as the Denny Park, then a cemetery, North Seattle. Since then they have been removed to the Masonic cemetery.

"The news of the murder was sent to John Bonser, in Oregon, and he came to the town at once. For several weeks after the event the columns of the Seattle _Gazette_ were devoted in part to a discussion of the question of selling and giving liquor to the Indians, the general conclusion being that it was not only against the law but a dangerous practice.

"Out of the killing by Aleck of the two Snohomish Indians grew a feud which resulted in the death of Aleck's son. The old man was the one wanted, but he was too quick with the rifle and they never got him. He died a few years ago, aged nearly ninety years."

So we see that whisky caused the death of six persons in this case.

The Lower Sound Indians were, if anything, more fierce and wild than those toward the south.

George Martin, the Swedish sailor who accompanied Capt. Fay, in 1851, said that he saw Sklallam Indians dancing a war dance at which there appeared the head of one of their enemies, which they had roasted; small pieces of it were touched to their lips, but were not eaten.

In an early day when Ira W. Utter lived on Salmon Bay, or more properly _s.h.i.+lshole_ Bay, he was much troubled by cougars killing his cattle, calves particularly. Thinking strychnine a good cure he put a dose in some lights of a beef, placed on a stick with the opposite end thrust in the ground. "Old Limpy," an Indian, spied the tempting morsel, took it to his home, roasted and ate the same and went to join his ancestors in the happy hunting grounds.

This Indian received his name from a limp occasioned by a gunshot wound inflicted by Lower Sound Indians on one of their raids. He was just recovering when the white people settled on Elliott Bay.

The very mention of these raids must have been terrifying to our Indians, as we called those who lived on the Upper Sound. On one occasion as a party of them were digging clams on the eastern sh.o.r.e of Admiralty Inlet, north of Meadow Point, they were attacked by their northern enemies, who shot two or three while the rest _klatawaw-ed_ with all the _hyak_ (hurry) possible and hid themselves.

CHAPTER II.

PIONEER JOKES AND ANECDOTES.

In early days, the preachers came in for some rather severe criticisms, although the roughest of the frontiersmen had a genuine reverence for their calling.

Ministers of the Gospel, as well as others, were obliged to turn the hand to toil with ax and saw. Now these tools require frequent recourse to sharpening processes and the minister with ax on shoulder, requesting the privilege of grinding that useful article on one of the few grindstones in the settlement occasioned no surprise, but when he prepared to grind by putting the handle on "wrong side to," gave it a brisk turn and snapped it off short, the disgust of the owner found vent in the caustic comment, "Well, if you're such a blame fool as that, I'll never go to hear you preach in the world!"

James G. Swan tells of an amusing experience with a Neah Bay Indian chief, in these words:

"I had a lively time with old Kobetsi, the war chief, whose name was Kobetsi-bis, which in the Makah language means frost. I had been directed by Agent Webster to make a survey of the reservation as far south as the Tsoess river, where Kobetsi lived, and claimed exclusive owners.h.i.+p to the cranberry meadows along the bank of that river. He was then at his summer residence on Tatoosh Island. The Makah Indians had seen and understood something of the mariner's compa.s.s, but a surveyor's compa.s.s was a riddle to them.

"A slave of Kobetsi, who had seen me at work on the cranberry meadows, hurried to Tatoosh Island and reported that I was working a tama.n.u.se, or magic, by which I could collect all the cranberries in one pile, and that Peter had sold me the land.

This enraged the old ruffian, and he came up to Neah Bay with sixteen braves, with their faces painted black, their long hair tied in a knot on top of their heads with spruce twigs, their regular war paint, and all whooping and yelling. The old fellow declared he would have my head. Peter and the others laughed at him, and I explained to him what I had been about. He was pacified with me, but on his return to Tatoosh Island he shot the slave dead for making a fool of his chief."