CHAPTER XXIX

SEALTH AND THE ALLIED TRIBES

Sealth, second chief of the allied tribes in early days and previously of the Squamish and Duwamish, was the greatest Indian character of the country. Like the historic chief of the Mingoes, he was a friend of the white man and enemies he had none. A statesman and not a warrior he swayed the minds of his people with the magic of oratory rather than of war. Without a knowledge of the polyglot language common to all the tribes and the early white men, he was able by his superiority of mind to mould the turbulent and warlike spirits about him to his way of thinking, and to not only control them individually but to unite them into one grand peace union and to ever after maintain over them against all opposition a power as potent for good as the spirit and nature of the one who prompted it. Many chiefs who had before enjoyed chiefship without hinderance and directed and controlled his people at his own sweet will yielded to the superior power of Sealth, acted his part after the federation only as a lieutenant or sub-chief. Many old-timers yet survive who enjoyed the friendship of the old chief. Samuel F. Coombs, who probably has as intimate a knowledge of the early Indians as any one living, says of the old chief Sealth:

“The first time I ever saw Chief Sealth was in the summer of 1860, shortly after my arrival, at a council of chiefs in Seattle. At that time there was an unusually large number of Indians in town, over 1000 of them being congregated on the sandy beach. Most of the Indians were standing around talking in groups or listening to the deliberations of the council of about twenty of the oldest Indians seated in a circle on the ground. The chief figure was a venerable-looking old native, who was apparently acting as judge, as all who spoke addressed themselves to him. Matters of grave importance were evidently being discussed, and I was greatly impressed with the calm and dignified manner in which the old judge disposed of the matter in dispute and the great attention and respect shown him when speaking. From an intelligent-looking Indian who could speak English I learned that the old judge was Chief Seattle, or, as he was then known, Sealth, and that those seated about him were ex-chiefs and leading Indians of the various tribes then living about here. Among them were Seattle Curley from the mouth of the Duwamish; Tecumseh, from the Black river; Shilshole Curley, from Salmon bay; Lake John from Lake Washington, and Kitsap, from Kitsap county.

“With this young man as an interpreter I interviewed several of the oldest natives as to how Sealth became head chief of so many tribes. They said that about fifty years before that time, when Sealth was 20 or 22 years old, news reached the various tribes in this vicinity that a large number of the mountain or upper Green and White river Indians were preparing to make a raid upon the salt water tribes. Great anxiety was felt among the latter, as the mountain tribes were redoubtable warriors, and had on several previous occasions vanquished the salt water tribes and carried off many of their people as slaves. Accordingly a council of war, composed of the chiefs and leading warriors of the tribes expecting to be attacked, met at the Old-Man-House near Port Madison. This place was the principal rendesvous of these tribes for potlatches and councils. At this council many plans were discussed as to the best method of resisting the invaders. None of those suggested by the older men, however, was satisfactory, and then the younger men were called upon for suggestions. At length young Sealth, a member of the Old-Man-House tribe, presented his plan, and it was so well devised and so clearly presented, that without listening to any others, it was adopted and he was appointed to carry t out, being given command of the expedition.

“Information had reached the salt water tribes that a large force of the mountain tribes intended to come down the Green and White rivers in canoes and inaugurate their attack at night. Sealth organized a band of warriors, and the day before the raid was expected they went up the river to a place on White river, near where John Fountain now lives above Black river bridge, and where the bluff on one side reaches to the river edge. The river here makes a short bend, and the current is very swift. A little below the bend a large fir tree standing on the bank was felled in such a way that it reached across the river and lay only a few inches above the water, so that no canoe could go under without upsetting. The work of felling the tree was done with rude axes, some made of stone, and it took the band nearly the whole day to bring it down and get it into position, which was finally accomplished before sunset. Sealth then ambushed his warriors, armed with bows and arrows, lances, tomahawks and knives, on either side of the stream, and confidently awaited the invaders.

“As soon as it was dusk five large canoes loaded with 100 selected warriors started down the stream, and as there was a strong current it was not long before they fell into the trap. The leading canoes were successively swamped before their occupants could realize the nature of the obstruction. The cries of their unfortunate companions, however, enabled those in the last two canoes to reach the shore before coming to the log. In the meantime thirty of the occupants of the leading canoes were either drowned, killed or captured by Sealth’s warriors, and those who reached shore in safety betook themselves up the river again, and their account of the disaster which had befallen their companions so discouraged the remainder of the expedition that they retired to their mountain homes.

“When Sealth and his warriors returned to the bay with such substantial proofs of the victory gained over their former persecutors great was the rejoicing among the salt water tribes and the hero of the hour was the young warrior who, by his cleverness, boldness and courage, had delivered them from a great danger. A grand council of the tribes was called, composed of the chiefs and leading warriors and medicine men from the following six tribes: Old-Man-House, Moxliepush, Duwamish, Black River, Shilshole and Lake, whose chiefs were Kitsap, Seattle Curley, Tecumseh, Salmon Bay Curley and Lake John, Seattle Curley being chief of both the Moxliepush and the Duwamish tribes. At this council Sealth was made great chief of all the tribes and the former chiefs became tyees, or sub-chiefs. The Moxliepush, Black River and Lake tribes, however, did not consent to a consolidation and Sealth, having assumed the authority conferred upon him by the majority, determined to make his authority respected by all. He organized an expedition composed of the bravest of his followers and made a tour of the three rebellious tribes, going by way of Shilshole and Salmon bays, Lake Union and across the portage to Lake Washington and thence to Black river and back to Old-Man-House. Though prepared to give battle if necessary he subdued his opponents by diplomacy. He held councils at various places on his route, made speeches to the tribesmen and won them over from their chiefs, and when they had submitted he took a number of hostages from each tribe along with him. In this way he gained the submission of all the rebellious chiefs and tribesmen without fighting a battle or killing a man. When the first white man came here Chief Sealth had quite a number of these hostages, who were called slaves by the other Indians, but who were not treated any differently, so far as the whites could observe, than the other Indians. Indeed, many of these so called slaves afterwards became Chief Sealth’s principal lieutenants.

“After Chief Sealth had consolidated the tribes and enforced his right to the chieftainship, he still further strengthened his influence over the tribes by checking other raids by unfriendly tribes from the north and south, and concluded treaties of friendship with them. He even carried his wise rule so far as to anticipate the formation of the Chinook language by the Hudsons Bay traders by so adapting the several distinct dialects then prevailing amongst the different tribes scattered over a large area, that at length they could converse with one another, where before they could not. Thus he brought about the formation of a language common to all the tribes from the Snohomish and Snoqualmie as far south and west as Olympia.

“By his great exploits in war, his wisdom and prudence in council, and the nobility of his character, Chief Sealth obtained a wonderful influence over all the natives in this section, whether belonging to his tribes or to others. And thus it was that, when I first saw him, his deep voice, slow and grave speech were listened to with such marked deference and respect by all. He was the supreme arbiter in their disputes, and his decisions were accepted as final and conclusive and carried out with unquestioning obedience. Having early been converted to the Catholic faith, he introduced and successfully carried out many moral reforms among his people. He reprimanded them often for drunkenness, fighting and their loose sexual relations with the whites. He was a great peacemaker and always avoided bloodshed whenever possible. He even undertook to subvert the ancient traditional customs of his race in regard to bloody retaliation for mortal wrongs, and to inculcate among his people Christian principles.

“Though a man of great natural abilities, Chief Sealth never learned either the Chinook or the English languages; nor did any of the older Indians whom I knew. An interpreter was always necessary whenever any of the whites wished to converse with him. In appearance he was dignified, but somewhat bent with age when I knew him, and at that time he always walked with a staff in his hand. He looked like a superior man among his people. Though the top of his head had been flattened in childhood, the malformation was not so apparent as it was in all the other old Indians of his day. During the summer months and when I first saw him he wore but a single garment. That was a Hudsons Bay company’s blanket, the folds of which he held together with one hand, and from their midst appeared the broad chest and strong arm of bronze which grasped his staff. The sketch herewith represented the old chief as he appeared on the streets of Seattle thirty-four years ago.

“The later years of Chief Sealth were passed at his headquarters at the Old-Man-House in Kitsap county, near Port Madison, and in visiting the tribes, administering justice, reproof and counsel to his devoted people. He was often in Seattle, where he was respected by all the white people. The Old-Man-House, where he resided was a famous gathering place for the natives from all over the Sound, and some of the potlatches held there have been attended by as many as 8,000 Indians. I saw one there at which there was fully 1,500 present.

“After a long illness, during which the old chief was frequently visited by natives and early white settlers from all over the Sound, he died at the Old-Man-House. His funeral was attended by several hundred white people and by more of his own people. G. A. Meigs, proprietor of the Port Madison mill, shut down his mill and on his steamer took all the employes and others over to the funeral. A great many also went over from Seattle. As the old chief was a Catholic he was buried with the ceremonies of that church, mingled with which were customs peculiar to the natives. The ceremonies were imposing and impressive, and the chanting of the litanies by the native singers was very beautiful.

“During his life Chief Sealth had two or three successive wives, but he did not have many children.

“Princess Angeline was his only child by his first wife. When I first knew her she was a washerwoman for the white people, among whom she was a great favorite, and although she was a buxom widow and not bad-looking, she was always esteemed as a virtuous, good woman. She had a daughter who married a half-breed, and by whom she had a son, now living, named Joe Foster. His parents died early and old Angeline has reared him, slaved for him and begged for him. She has gotten him out of many scrapes and her whole heart is wrapped up in the boy, ‘My papa’s great-grandchild.’

“Angeline had a half-sister who married a chief on Lake Samamish and died some time ago, but I don’t know any more about her. I think Chief Sealth also left by his last wife a son, who is now living at Old-Man-House. This son has a grandson there who is a dwarf. He is 20 years old and is only thirty inches tall, is very bright, well formed, talks English and is the pet of all the Indians on the reservation.

“During the past thirty-three years I have on many occasions endeavored to learn from the oldest and most intelligent Indians something of their earlier recollections; for instance as to when the heaviest earthquake occurred. They said that one is said to have occurred a great many years before any white men had ever been seen here, when mam-ook ta-mahn-a-wis was carried on by hundreds. This is the same performance they go through when they are making medicine men, and consists of shouting, singing, beating on the drums and sticks and apparently trying to make as much noise as they can. While making a medicine man I have seen upwards of 100 painted Indians driving on the streets here a young man stripped nearly naked, with a long lariat fastened to a girdle around his waist. At one time it took them over a week to make a ta-mahn-a-wis man of the fellow they were driving. After he became supernaturally fixed he came near dying, and old Dr. Maynard, the only physician then in town, was called in to give him a dose of civilized medicine.

“The only total eclipse of the sun visible here during the past thirty-four years occurred about twenty-five years ago during a clear afternoon. The white settlers were preparing their smoked glasses. Ex-Chief Lake John happened to come by about that time, and I told him in Chinook that the sun was to be darkened in about an hour from that time. He very sharply inquired how I knew, and I told him I was in klosh tum-tum with the Sah-ha-le tyee, or that I was on good terms with God. He laughed heartily at such a ridiculous notion, but when the sun began to be obscured I handed him a piece of smoked glass, and after looking through it he became very grave, and looking at the sky in amazement he said with great seriousness, ‘De-late mi-ka cum-tux,’ you have told the truth. When the eclipse became total the howling and pounding of drums over at Plummer’s point, where the Indians were assembled, could be heard all over town.

“In 1880, when the deep snow occurred in January, there being over four feet of the beautiful, I inquired of an old Indian if he had ever seen snow so deep before, and he said no, but that his father had told him that there was one fall of snow many years before which was equal to it. Lake Union has been frozen all over twice, and a number of times has formed two to five inches thick in sheltered places of the lake. Only twice since 1856 has it been as cold as it was this winter.

“A son of Pat Kanim, the old chief of the Snoqualmies, who now lives on the Tulalip reservation, told me that his father had been a good, true friend of the whites during the Indian war, and he corroborated what A. A. Denny has said in his history of that war. He said that Mr. Denny had with good reason placed confidence in his father, notwithstanding that others thought he was not worthy of it. He said that Leschi and Nelson were the leaders in the massacre near Slaughter, where eight whites were killed in 1855. These were the same tribes that had attempted the raid fifty years before which Chief Sealth foiled, and the same which attacked the town of Seattle in 1856. This time they came across Lake Washington instead of down the river, landing their canoes where is now located Leschi park. They had not forgotten Sealth’s plan of resisting an invasion by the river route.”

To Dr. Maynard it is said belongs the honor of naming the city of Seattle after the old chief and also of conferring the name Angeline on his daughter.

There is one descendant of the old chief who is at once the pride and the one particular character of the Queen City today. That descendant is Angeline, daughter of the old chief; Princess Angeline she is called. She is not courtly or noble in bearing and never showed any superior powers of intellect, indeed, it is not saying too much to say that to the present residents who know her she does not exhibit even average Indian intelligence, though great and enfeebled old age may in a measure account for it. Angeline had a revelation last year when she was shown a painting of the old chief, life size and true to the original. It is said of her that at least she showed that she had a tender memory and soft heart, for she cried and went about the streets muttering in her Indian way: “Utch i-dah, utch-i-dah; nika papa hias klosh.” Wonderful! wonderful! good picture of Sealth.

Poor old Angeline. Bent, decrepit and carrying the weight of 80 years with an effort, she still possessed a heart full of tenderness that could only find relief in a flood of tears.

Long, long ago it had been that old Angeline saw the royal old chieftain, her father, for the last time. Only in her Indian memory had she communed with him who was once lord of all around in the neighborhood of Elliott bay. But now she stood face to face once more and looked into the kindly face of the old chief, who has been dead these many years. It was Chief Sealth, life size, as he appeared thirty-five or forty years ago, with his big, blue-bordered Hudsons Bay company blanket hanging in Grecian folds from his dusky shoulders. No wonder poor old Angeline cried and sobbed and broke down in the rush of tender recollections that must have filled her old soul. No wonder she exclaimed: “Utch-i-dah! utch-i-da! nika papa hias klosh.”

It was her old-time friend Samuel Coombs, the pioneer, who took old Angeline to see the picture of the old chief, painted by Mr. Coombs’ son Raphael for the chamber of commerce of this city. Angeline, the last survivor of the old chief’s family, did not know what was wanted of her, but she knew that her old friend meant her no harm and she trudged along, muttering in her peculiar guttural Indian dialect until she came plunk upon the big painting. It shows the old chief as he first appeared to the whites about 40 years ago, standing erect with a big shock of raven hair, a broad face, kindly eye and the picture of a perfect Indian, showing in a marked degree the great intelligence the old chief is known to have possessed. He is as nature found him, bereft of ornament save the big gray blanket with its broad border of blue about his shoulders.

Angeline’s judgment ought to be taken as to the merits of the picture. She pronounces it good, very good, and it will probably become the one great memento of the now vanished royal rule that prevailed over the woods and bays and tribes hereabouts before the white man came and took possession. In the perspective of the picture are the snowy lines of the grand Olympic mountains, looking very pretty and true to reality. Angeline leaned against the counter and cried till her Indian tears fell thick and fast. “Nika papa hias klosh,” she muttered as she turned away towards the door and then trudged off down the street, but not for long. She trudged back for another look and many times during the afternoon she passed and repassed the window, muttering that it was good, and peeking through the big plate windows, for the picture had been set therein for the passerby to look at. Young Coombs’ picture is from a photograph of the old chief furnished by the old pioneer, Hon. A. A. Denny, taken years ago.

To the older settlers Angeline’s name was given by some of the Indians as Wee-wy-eke and by herself as Kakii-Silma; very pretty names both of them. A daughter of Angeline, known to the whites by the unpretentious name of Betsey, had the prettily sounding Indian name of Che-wa-tum.

There is another little painting by young Coombs, just as full of interest as that of the old chief. It is a reproduction in oil of the old log cabin, the first log cabin built by the white settlers forty or more years ago, on Alki point. The picture is from a sketch taken a dozen years ago while yet the old log hut was in a state of preservation and it is said to be a very realistic likeness. The picture is now the property of Mr. Denny and he treasures it as one of his most valued mementoes.

In his little book, “Pioneer Days on Puget Sound,” Mr. Denny, speaking of the first log house says:

“Our first work was to provide shelter for the winter, and we finished the house begun by brother and Lee Terry for J. N. Low, and took shelter in it from the rain, which was falling more or less every day; but we did not regard it with much concern and seldom lost any time on that account. We next built a log house for myself, which increased our room very materially and made all more comfortable. We had now used up all the timber suitable for log houses, which we could get without a team, and we split cedar and built houses for Bell and Boren, which we considered quite a fancy, but not so substantial as log houses. About the time we had completed our winter quarters, the brig Leonesa, Captain Daniel S. Howard, came to anchor in the bay. Seeing that the place was inhabited by whites, the captain came ashore seeking a cargo of piles, and we readily made a contract to load the vessel. We had no team at the time, but some of us went to work cutting the timber nearest the water, and rolled and hauled in by hand, while Lee Terry went up Sound and obtained a yoke of oxen, which he drove on the beach from Puyallup with which to complete the cargo, but we had made very considerable progress by hand before his arrival.

“Alki point had not been a general camping place for the Indians, but soon after we landed and commenced clearing the land, they commenced to congregate and continued coming until we had over 1,000 in our midst and most of them remained all winter. Some of them built their houses very near ours, even on the ground we had cleared, and although they seemed very friendly towards us, we did not feel safe in objecting to their building, and it was very noticeable that they regarded their proximity to us as a protection against other Indians.”

Little more than one generation ago, at a date which would extend quite beyond the date birth of very many people in Seattle, there was assembled on the neck of land known as Elliott point, Alki point, Duwamish head and West Seattle, or as the Indians called it Squ-ducks, a large band of Indians and a great pow wow was going on.

One thousand natives of the Duwamish and other tribes with a few stragglers from distant local tribes were assembled and sat about their smouldering fires, lounged lazily in brown-colored canoes or were snoring under rakish tents much as the Indians of today do about Ballast island or the hop fields.

All was excitement.

History records the fact that the day was a beautiful one, a brilliant sun shedding a brilliant light over a most primeval and rural scene.

Over all this vast congregation of God’s simple-minded children there ruled a chief—old Chief Sealth—then a patriarch, aged, yet stately and dignified; an Indian simple and untutored, though yet an orator of the highest rank.

Old Chief Sealth, a name honored and revered even at that early day; a name since become historic and wreathed with an enduring, undying fame.

It was at a day when the flames of Indian warfare were beginning to smoulder after a long seige of war, of ambush and bloodshed on Puget Sound, though the old patriarch of the forest, Chief Sealth, had refrained from lending a hand in the bloody work of his tribal relations and neighbors. He, like many of the proud chieftains in the earlier settlement of the Atlantic and middle states, stood by the white men—the invaders we might say—when their brethren wore the war paint and carried the scalp-lock at their girdle.

On this historic day old Sealth sat gloomily down in front of his wigwam waiting in stolid indifference for the coming of the Boston man, who was to treat with him that day and bring him news from the great white chief at Washington.

At last the great white chief’s agent, Colonel M. T. Simmons, made his appearance, coming from the direction of Olympia, and landed in front of the staid old Siwash chief’s camp. The ceremony of an introduction was gone through with in the Chinook jargon, Colonel Simmons being a master in that tongue, and being an emissary of the government of much repute among the Indians.

We can imagine the old chief receiving in his dignified, though simple style, this messenger from the government. We of today might clothe our imagination with the vision of Princess Angeline, the old chief’s daughter, then a maiden of comely, though dusky, looks, standing respectfully near and listening, possibly in eagerness, to this bartering away of her father’s domain—her own heritage—to the stranger.

Princess Angeline now broken and enfeebled by 40 years of care and bitter memories, yet lives by that same seaside and almost within sight of the identical spot whereon that great pow wow was held. Well for poor old Angeline that her sensibilities are stunted and seared, that time has graciously smothered any remembrance of those days of freedom, when none but her people and kindred owned and traversed these woods and waters.

But to the story.

Colonel Simmons had left Olympia on the 15th day of May, 1858, to visit the several Indian tribes on Puget Sound and conclude the treaties with them and arrange for the disbursement of annuities and provisions. The commissioner had first called at Fort Kitsap, G. A. Page local agent, where some 400 Indians waited for him. Colonel Simmons, after the preliminaries necessary for such an august occasion, was the first to address the assemblage of chiefs and Indians. His speech was in Chinook and no interpreter was needed. He referred to the promises that had been made and which were about to be realized, and wound up with the reference at the close of his speech to the propensities of the Indian for rum and the evil effects therefrom.

The venerable old chief being first in authority among the assembled red men, was the first to speak. With the dignity becoming the occasion and the position of a great chief, he arose, wrapped his heavy blanket more closely about his shoulders, and began his address. The reference of Colonel Simmons to the Indian thirst for strong drink touched the old man’s quick, though he did not show it by any outward sign or expression of feature. No, old Chief Sealth was too august, too grand for that. Colonel Simmons would learn of his displeasure, but in a manner and with weapons of his own choice. Sealth would show that he was an orator. Translated, he said:

“I am not a bad man; I want you to understand what I say; I do not drink rum; neither does New-E-Chis, (another chief present) and we continually advise our people not to do so.

“I am and always have been a friend to the whites. I listen to what Mr. Page (the resident agent) says to me, and I do not steal nor do any of my people steal from the whites.

“Oh, Mr. Simmons, why do not our papers come back to us? You always say they will come back, but they do not come. I fear that we are forgotten or that we are to be cheated out of our land.

“I have been very poor and hungry all winter and am very sick now. In a little while I will die. I should like to be paid for my lands before I die. Many of my people died during the cold winter without getting their pay. When I die my people will be very poor—they will have no property, no chief and no one to talk for them. You must not forget them, Mr. Simmons, when I am gone.

“We are ashamed when we think of the Puyallups, as they have now got their papers. They fought against the whites whilst we, who have never been angry with them, get nothing. When we get our pay we want it in money. The Indians are not bad. It is the mean white men that are bad to them. If any person writes that we do not want our papers they tell lies.

“Oh, Mr. Simmons; you see I am sick, I want you to write quickly to the great chief what I say. I am done.”

Then the old chief retired. Calm his mein, unruffled his spirits, dignified his tirade, though age had bent his stately bearing, for old Chief Sealth had even then—long before that day when he arose to call in question the integrity of a great nation which had promised to pay him for his birthright and had not done so—passed the milestones on life’s great highway, when man’s and Indian’s, too, allotted days of labor are over.

It was the same old story. The dominion of the untutored child of the forest had been usurped by the ruthless hand of civilization and the Indian life had been crushed out.

It had followed the red man from the bleak New England shore to a last great stand on the borders of the western sea. Chief Sealth, like Powantonimo, Red Jacket, Black Hawk, Tecumseh and all the great line of chiefs of the American red man, had given up their ancestral possessions to the pale faces and was ready to die of a broken heart.

On the evening of the same day (May 15) Simmons and party reached Skagit Head, under Captain R. C. Fay, where some 800 Indians of the tribes of Skagits, Snohomish, Snoqualmies and others were assembled. He made about the same speech to them as at Fort Kitsap, when Hetty Kannim, a sub-chief, answered him as follows:

“I am but a sub-chief, but I am chosen for my people to speak for them today. I will speak what I think and I want any of the drinking Indians to contradict me if they can. Liquor is killing our people off fast. Our young men spend their money and their work for it. Then they get angry and kill each other and sometimes kill their wives and children. We old men do not drink and we beg our boys to not trade with cultus (bad) Boston men for liquor. We have all agreed to tell our agent when any liquor boats are about and help to arrest the man who sells it. I will now talk about our treaties. When is the Great Father who lives across the mountains going to send us our papers back? Four summers have passed since you and Governor Stevens told us we would get our pay for lands. We remember well what you said to us over there (pointing to Elliott bay) and our hearts are very sick because you did not do as you promised. We saw the Puyallups and the Nisquallys get their annual pay and our hearts were sick because we could get nothing. We never fought with the whites. We considered it good to have good white people among us. Our young women can gather berries and clams and our young men can fish and hunt and sell what they get to the whites. We are willing that the whites shall take the timber, but we want the game and the fish and we want our homes, where there is plenty of game and fish and good lands for potatoes. We want our Great Father to know what our hearts are and we want you to send our talk to him at once. I have done.”

“Hiram,” a Snoqualmie then spoke:

“We want our treaty to be concluded as soon as possible. We are tired of waiting. Our reason is that our old people, and there are many of them, are dying. Look at those old men and women; they have only a little while to live and they want to get their pay for their lands. The white people have taken it and you, Mr. Simmons, promised us we should be paid, you and Governor Stevens. Suspense is killing us.

“We are afraid to plant potatoes on the river bottom, lest some bad white man shall come and make us leave. You know what we are Mr. Simmons. You was the first American we ever knew and our children will remember you as long as they remember anything. I was but a boy when I first knew you. You know we do not want to drink liquor, but we cannot help it when the bad Boston man brings it to us and urges us to drink. When our treaties were made we told our hearts to you and Governor Stevens and they have not changed since. I have done.”

“Bonaparte,” a Snohomish chief, then spoke as follows:

“What I have to say is not of much consequence. My children have all been killed by rum, and I am very poor. I believe what Mr. Simmons tells about our treaty, but most Indians think he lies. My heart is not asleep. I have known Mr. Simmons a long time and he never lied to me, and I think he will tell the Great Father that we want to get our pay. I have done.”

The Indians at Point no Point were then seen and many speeches of a like character were made and then the party returned to Olympia.