This history was told by Harvey Robbins in 1921 and typed as he told it by Zella S. Muller.

It was copied by Doris Robbins, Oct. 1988.

It was recopied by Willard “Jack” Davis (Robbins descendant), Feb. 2001.

Corrections for clarity were made by Donna Forney Clark (Robbins descendant), May 2005.

Layout is by David R. Clark, May 2005.


PIONEER REMINISCENCES

By Harvey Robbins

I am one of the early settlers of Oregon, having crossed the Great Plains with my father’s family in 1852; being then nineteen, I drove an oxen team across the plains the entire distance.

We pulled out from our home (Decatur County, Indiana) on the 19th of March, 1852, arriving at what is now Salem on the 8th December following, after enduring many hardships and much suffering, having lost two brothers on the trail. We were harassed from the beginning to the end by marauding Indians stealing our stock. They kept us constantly on guard day and night.

Early on the trail our people were attacked by the dread of cholera, and many of our friends and relatives died of that disease. I helped bury three cousins in one grave, all grown women, and from that time loved-ones line the Old Oregon Trail.

From the time of the Whitman Massacre in 1847 in the Walla Walla Valley the inhabitants of Oregon were startled by fiendish murders and massacres on the Trails and in the out-lying settlements. All through the Rouge River country in Southern Oregon and along the Old California Trail, they took a great toll.

In 1853 General Lane went into that with a small force of men and at Table Rock, near Rouge River, he engaged a large force of Indians, with the loss of several men and the old General himself severely wounded. The Indians, however, were not subdued, occasional depredations continued until 1855. Early in October of that year Governor Curry made a hurried call for volunteers. By this time I had become of age and gone to Linn County, and taken up a donation land claim. Then the call reached Linn County, the news spread rapidly, runners going in all directions, one coming to me where I was plowing on the prairie and informed me of the urgent need for haste and action. I at once unhooked my team from the plow, turned them loose and went hurriedly to a young fellow who was working a claim a couple of miles from where I was. He had two excellent horses for the service. I secured one of them; we hastily rode away to nearest point where the men congregated. We there met a number of other young fellows, and all of us signed at once the necessary papers. We were then ready at a moments notice to fall into line.

By ten o’clock the next morning we had one hundred and ten ready to go on forced march to Rogue River and the country near the California line several hundred miles south. We all furnished our own equipment, horse, gun, and ammunition. We mounted and rode rapidly out through the Willamette Valley. When we came to Cow Creek Valley, we came into the path of the Indian raid and there we beheld a most sickening sight. The inhabitants were murdered or driven from their homes which were in ashes. We saw the signs of the most cruel murder and torture that Indian deviltry could invent. As I now remember only two houses left unburned, they were where there had been enough men to stand the Indians off. On leaving Cow Creek we climbed quite a hill, just on top of which there was a terrible sight. A man by the name of Bailey with two or three large wagons, loaded with provisions for the California mines, and his men had been most brutally murdered. The oxen that were drawing the wagons had been shot in the yokes, and wagons burned with the contents the Indians could not take with them. There was also a large drove of hogs shot down. By this time our blood was boiling and at this point our Captain took the precaution to order a front guard, and called for Volunteers for that duty. Five of us, young chaps, stepped out, and were ordered to proceed and keep about one mile in advance. We knew that about four miles there was a road house, and we had not gone far when we were startled with what we thought was firing of musketry. Thinking that the station, ahead in the distance, was being attacked, we pushed ahead rapidly; arriving at the place, we were informed there had been an engagement going on for two days and nights between a large force of Indians and a small force of Volunteers and also a squad of regulars. The boys had not eaten a bite during the two days and nights. We were wild for the fray, although the sun was setting, we tied our horses to some nearby trees and started on a very dim trail through a dense forest, hoping we would get there in time to get some of the fun, but as dusk came on the firing ceased. However we pushed ahead the best we could, having much trouble following the dim trail as it was intensely dark. We hadn't gone far when we met the men coming in, and right here I want to say, I have not the words to describe their famished and worn looks. We pressed on to the battle ground to aid in getting the dead and wounded into the station which took all night and part of the next day. There were forty-two killed and wounded in the engagement. We never did learn the number of Indians killed, as they pulled out that same night for the Rogue River country. We were not provided with ammunition and provisions to follow them at once, so we were compelled to wait for orders, for food supplies for ourselves and horses.. In a few days the supplies came, and again we took the old California trail and some twenty miles to the road house on Grave Creek to Rogue River. Twelve of us volunteered, Captain Keeny ordered to go on foot with light equipment to ascertain, if possible the route the Indians had taken.

On arriving there we found the Indians had not gone up the river, but found the old Indian trail impassable for horses, so we footmen continued on down the river over a most torturous trail to Whiskey Creek and there awaited the coming of the horsemen the next day. Upon their arrival we continued our march over a mountain trail. While on this mountain we discovered a smoke from the Indian camp across the river in a dense forest and in an almost inaccessible place.

After passing over the mountain we came into beautiful rolling meadows. We came over the meadows and down to the river and there camped for the night, about one mile below the Indian camp; here we were reinforced by a company from Lane County, commanded by Captain Bouy. We were constructing rafts to cross the river, and while busily engaged in putting the raft together, we were surprised by a volley from the Indians at short range. Three men went down, one killed, one badly wounded and the third slightly wounded. That night we were ordered back to the camp three miles from the river. There we buried our dead comrades. The officers held a council of war and decided it was improvident to undertake to dislodge the Indians that winter and issued orders for all to be ready to march early the next morning. That night there fell twelve inches of wet, heavy snow which made it tough on us boys who were afoot, and had to carry one of the wounded men on a litter forty miles over rough, high mountains.

After three days tramping through the snow we were back in the station at Grove Creek where we found comfortable quarters for our wounded men. Here we were delighted to find our horses. There being no feed obtainable for them, we were ordered back toward the valley which we made at easy stages, until we reached the Willamette Valley where we were permitted to go to our homes, with orders to keep ourselves in readiness to again come at a moments call to a place on rendezvous.

On the first day of February we were called together at Brownville by our First Sergeant, Our Captain having been deprived of his commission for disbanding his company. So we were all given honorable discharges and told there had been a new company mustered in a day or two before that had started for Walla Walla , Snake River and the Upper Columbia River country. So my comrade and I decided we would follow and join that company. I bought a new horse for which I paid $240.00. It was after two o’clock when we got our discharges, we already had guns and blankets with us, and we immediately mounted and started for Salem where we found our company and were warmly welcomed for we had become known as dependable fighters. Our company was known as Company D., Oregon Mounted Volunteers. My comrade was Samuel B. Gregg. Early that day we were called to mount and took up our march by the way of Portland and Sandy River. Thence up the great Columbia River, through the gorge and Cascade Mountains to the Dalles. Thence over the plains to the Walla Walla Valley. There we found two or three companies awaiting the arrival of more troops. The Indians having promised of a big fight in the spring. Supplies had to come from Portland by pack mules and ox teams which were necessarily slow. In the meantime we were doing much scouting. There were forty men detailed to go to Snake River and escort the Nes Perce Indians down with one hundred ponies that the government had purchased from the Old Nes Perce Indian Chief. The Nes Perce were friendly with the whites at that time.

On that trip I met young Chief Joseph. He was but a lad then and a likeable fellow. His father had put him in charge of the horses which he delivered in a business like manner. He appeared so opposed to war that I was much surprised when he took the warpath. He surely could be cruel when he got mad. A party of his warriors swooped down on a settlement on the Touchet River and killed , men, women, and children. I had a friend among them. These Indians killed all of one family except one little child and cut out the tongue of the child and left it alive. (after side-stepping to speak for Chief Joseph I will resume my story)

On our return we found the men had completed four new boats, several ox teams were arriving. The Officers commandeered four of the teams to haul the boats across to the Snake River to a point where we expected to meet the Indians in force. But by this time we arrived we found but a few camps there; they pulled up hurriedly and lit out across the country for the Columbia River which was twenty five miles west. We got across the river and gave chase but night came on and we were obliged to give up further pursuit until morning. When morning broke two hundred men were out early. Getting out on the sage brush plains we sighted Indians riding apparently in all directions. We rushed toward them as rapidly as our horses could go, trying to see who could be first to get under fire, or in other words see who would get the first scalp. Seeing that the Indians were not going to stand for an engagement, but were probably preparing to lead us into ambush, we broke into small squads and gave chase in several directions. Five of us dashed after a bunch that was waving blankets and bantering us but before we were in firing range they fled. They took a course down the Snake River. This being about the location of where the town of Pasco now stands. We continued the chase to near the junction of the Snake and Columbia Rivers. By this time the sun was setting so we realized further chase would be fruitless. We turned and went back to the Snake River and took an old Indian trail that led us up the river. We had not proceeded far when we came to a rocky point which extended into the river, so we had to ride up over this point. It was now getting quite dark, I was riding in advance, and just as I reached level ground, I was surprised to find myself surrounded by an angry mob of Indians. At this time I felt something pierce the thick part of my thigh and on putting my hand down I found an Indian arrow sticking there. I was plying my spurs freely to my spirited horse which was rearing and plunging wildly, I used my rifle vigorously in clubbing the Indians off and at the same time they snapped a flint-lock gun that failed to fire except to flash in the pan. The gun was an old Hudson Bay rifle such as many of the Indians were armed with at that time.

They were now making frantic efforts to get hold of my horse's bridle and they had failed so far to dismount me. I then dashed back up the hill to the crest of the point where I met my Comrade, who hesitated for a moment for a moment while I exhibited the blood stained arrow. just at this time one of the boys sang out, “Look out boys, here comes Indians behind us.” So our only chance of escape was in scaling the mountain immediately to our left which was very steep and rocky. The hill being too steep to carry the men up, we dismounted; as I was unable to walk, one man lead my horse and another from behind pushed and made my horse take me over the rough places. We finally arrived in camp late that night and Doctor Smith dressed my wound. The next morning the doctor ordered me sent out by ox teams that were sent out by way of old Fort Walla Walla. This old fort at the mouth of the Walla Walla River, built of dobey (adobe), was first used by fur traders many years ago.

So I was put in one of the prairie schooners with my blankets spread down in the bottom of the wagon box. There were six yoke of oxen to each wagon, all young steers except the wheelers and the leaders. They were driven by two horse men to each wagon. There was no broken road. Each man armed with a goading stick with a sharp nail in the point. Orders were given to start and away we went on the run, over the hills and gulches, sage brush and sand dunes, arriving very late that night. The Indians had burned the buildings and nothing was left but the dobey wall. Here I was domiciled for three weeks before I could get around.

By this time our troops had returned from the Upper Columbia, worn and hungry, provisions being about exhausted. Our officers ordered out a detachment of twelve men to proceed to the Umatilla River to search for some Indian cattle that had been reported seen. We were sent out on half rations for five days, but before that time was up the “grub” was all gone. Then we had to resort to all kinds of skirmishes for food. We searched through the foot hills of the Blue mountains and Upper Umatilla River, but no cattle.

By this time we were getting desperate with hunger and we resorted to eating anything we could possible kill. I killed a wolf, some badgers and some birds, among which was a crow. We ate a great many large black crickets which were not to bad if we took time to pull off their legs, and put them in a hot frying pan when they would roll over a few times and pop open. With salt and pepper they were fairly palatable. They were almost as large as the thumb of your hand, very numerous on the hills.

After intense hunger and anxiety our troops arrived with a supply of provisions. On the north side of the Snake River the main Command was divided, one half ordered to proceed to the Yakima Valley and from there to Salls. On entering the Yakima Valley they were surprised by a force of Indians with a consequent loss of several men, among whom was Captain Hembry, one of our most dependable fighters.

Proceeding on the march, camp was pitched the next night among some beautiful hills taking precaution to first tie all horses. Next morning at day break the horses were turned loose under a light guard. They had just reached a little plateau and the guards had dismounted, when they were startled by the murderous yells of a large force of Indians mounted. These devils had the cunning to ride between the guardsmen and their horses by jerking the lariats from them, so away all the horses fled with the Indians in hot pursuit. The troops were left to take what equipment they could carry on their backs. The defeat and loss had been reported to us by scouts, so we renewed our vigilance and kept our horses well guarded day and night

After two days travel we camped at the mouth of Alkali Canyon, two miles above what is now the town of Echo. This was formerly an Indian Agency and known as Fort Henriette. Just after dawn one morning we were awaking by the booming of the cannon at the Fort. To say there was excitement would be putting it to tame, some were half dressed, and some put their saddles on their horses without any blankets, and the captain sang out,

“First ready, First go.” Away we went in two’s and three’s. Approaching the Fort some of the Troops were motioning us towards the hill which was a short distance ahead. We dashed up this hill, and there lay the man who had taken out the horses. The Indians had brutally murdered him. They had scalped both his head and face and most shamefully mutilated his body.

From this point we could see the Indians not more than a mile away. We madly rushed toward them. Some of us who were in the lead and within rifle range shot a couple of the red rascals. Their comrades seeing them fall, rushed back and threw them on behind other Indian riders and we lost our coveted trophies. By this time they were going in a dead run with the horses they had stolen from the fort. We continued a running fight for four or five miles. However with their fresh horses we knew there was no chance to get any scalps or to recover our horses, so we went back muchly chagrined.

We returned to our camp and gathered up our effects we had so hurriedly left and at once resumed our march to The Dalles. From here we continued on down the Columbus River to Portland and then to Salem, where we were honorably discharged. We then went to our respective homes. So after following the Indians for at least six hundred miles, and suffering many trying hardships we were compelled to lay-by awaiting further orders, and although we realized the Indians were somewhat subdued, they were not conquered.


NOTE: (In looking over what I have written I find that I have not half told the terrible atrocities and devastation left in the wake of the murderous redskins.)