. Ox-team days on the Oregon Trail /by Ezra Meeker ; revised and edited by Howard R. Driggs. I had seen but few Indians on the wholetrip and, in fact, the camp I found there on the bank of thegreat river was the first I distinctly remember coming could not induce the Indians to cross me over; theyseemed surly and unfriendly. Their behavior was so incontrast to that of the Indians on the Sound that I couldnot help wondering what it meant. No one, to my knowl-edge, lost his life at the hands of the Indians that season, butthe next summer all or nearly all the travelers who ven-tured into
. Ox-team days on the Oregon Trail /by Ezra Meeker ; revised and edited by Howard R. Driggs. I had seen but few Indians on the wholetrip and, in fact, the camp I found there on the bank of thegreat river was the first I distinctly remember coming could not induce the Indians to cross me over; theyseemed surly and unfriendly. Their behavior was so incontrast to that of the Indians on the Sound that I couldnot help wondering what it meant. No one, to my knowl-edge, lost his life at the hands of the Indians that season, butthe next summer all or nearly all the travelers who ven-tured into that country unprotected were murdered. That night I camped late, opposite Wallula (old FortWalla Walla), in a sand storm of great fury. I tethered mypony this time, and rolled myself up in the blanket, only tofind myself fairly buried in the drifting sand in the morn-ing. It required a gieat effort to creep out of the blanket,and an even greater effort to free the blanket from theaccumulated sand. Ry this time the wind had gone downand comparative calm prevailed. Finding My People 131. I spent two hours calling across the river at the top ofmy voice. Then came the attempt to make myself heard across thewide river by the people of the fort. I traveled up and downthe river bank for half a mile or so, in the hope of catching afavorable breeze to carry my voice to the fort, yet all to noavail. I sat upon the bank hopelessly discouraged, notknowing what to do. 1 must have been two hours hallooingat the top of my voice, until I was hoarse from the violenteffort. Finally, while sitting there wondering what to do, I spieda blue smoke arising from a cabin on the other side. Soonafter I saw a man; he immediately responded to my re-newed efforts to attract attention. The trouble had beenthat the people were all asleep, while I was there in theearly morning expending my breath for nothing. 132 Ox-Team Days on the Oregon Trail Tho man was Shirley Ensign, of Olympia, who hadestablished a fe
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, booksubjectoverlan, bookyear1922
