In 1864, a small party of white settlers and their Indian allies launched a retaliatory raid against a band of Snake Indians in the rugged country of what is now central Oregon. The expedition, driven by grief and a thirst for vengeance, followed the trail of warriors who had burned a ranch, killed a man, and taken a young boy captive. The trouble began when Jim Clark and his young son went to gather firewood along the John Day River, about a mile below the mouth of Bridge Creek. The spot was beneath a high cliff where driftwood had piled up, and the house stood in plain view some 600 yards away.
While they were loading the wagon, they looked up to see the house in flames and Indians gathered around it. With the river on one side and perpendicular cliffs at their backs, escape seemed impossible. Clark cut the horses free from the harness, mounted one, and told the boy to follow him. The boy, terrified, drove his horse to full speed and pulled ahead.
After a chase of only about two miles, the young rider’s horse began to fail, and an Indian on a black horse closed to within twenty feet. The boy saw the warrior raise his pistol and threw himself from the horse with a cry of “Oh Lord! ” that was lost in the dust. Clark, watching from a distance, believed his son was dead or taken for torture.
He managed to escape, and when he reached the camp, he reported that the Indians had already killed his brother-in-law, George Masterson, and that his son’s fate left little doubt. Every man who could be spared from camp saddled his horse and rode out with Clark, either to save the boy or to avenge his death. They searched the area and eventually found the boy alive, hidden under an overhanging bank where he had crawled after springing from his horse. He told them the Indians were only a few feet away when they found him.
The following day, a volunteer force of seven men, including Jim Clark, Perry Min, John Adterbury, and the narrator, set out to track down the raiders. At daybreak, Perry Min demanded that stolen property be returned or that he seek vengeance. The party believed the enemy numbered no more than fifteen or twenty warriors. As night fell, the volunteers located the Indian camp on the west branch of Trout Creek, about a mile above the forks.
The camp sat on open ground with a high bald mountain on one side, and the warriors felt safe enough to unsaddle their horses and sleep, posting only a single guard. The volunteers decided to wait for daylight. At 3 p. m.
the next day, they saddled their horses and used a slight depression in the ground to approach within 150 yards of the camp. They took a circuitous route from the south. The waiting was agonizing, but as daylight broke, they formed a line and advanced cautiously. When they were close enough, they rose and yelled like furies.
The reaction was unexpected. Numerous Indians raced toward them shouting, but they were calling in jargon and identified themselves as friendly Warm Springs Indians, not Snakes. Jim Clark and Perry Min warned their foes not to shoot. The Warm Springs warriors had been hunting when the Snakes approached, and they shared their experience without a shot being fired.
An important development followed. The Warm Springs chief, Kamaria, accepted a proposal to meet unarmed with Paulina, chief of the Snakes, halfway between the two groups to settle terms of peace. Paulina opposed the meeting, suspecting treachery, but Kamaria went ahead. He was brutally murdered by the Snake chief.
The murder of their chief enraged the Warm Springs Indians, who volunteered to pursue the assassin. They joined the white men’s expedition, though the narrator noted that the two tribes were traditional enemies and the Warm Springs held the Snakes in great dread. Paulina was particularly feared and was believed to be bulletproof. The combined force tracked the Snakes up Trout Creek, through a low gap, and to the head of McKay Creek.
The trail was fresh, with fires still burning at abandoned camps, and the grass cut by the horses was as fresh as when it was growing. Scouts reported that the enemy was not far ahead. A council was held to debate whether to attack at once or wait. The Warm Springs were eager for an immediate attack.
The camp was located on the edge of an open glade, which presented an opportunity for a close approach. The men looked to Jim Clark as their leader, as he was older and far more experienced than anyone else. Clark advised an immediate attack. The plan called for part of the Warm Springs force to approach from the west, stampede the horses, and cut off escape.
The rest of the men tied their horses in a thicket of firs and moved silently up the ridge, holding their breath to avoid breaking a twig. As they prepared to rush, the Indians discovered them and raised the war whoop. The Snakes sprang for their weapons and tried to save their horses. The concealment was no longer effective, so the volunteers rushed into the woods and opened fire.
The narrator recalled dropping to one knee and firing at a large warrior, who jumped into the air and fell. He knew he had made a good shot. The Snakes fled down the creek toward shelter, and the fight continued until they were driven off. When the volunteers regrouped, they found four dead Indians.
One had a broken leg from a rifle ball and had been dispatched by the allies. The narrator watched as scalps were taken, a sight he had no wish to see repeated. The expedition captured a number of ponies and some stolen white stock. The ponies were given to the Warm Springs allies, along with a captured pistol.
Everything that could not be carried was destroyed. The two parties parted ways, with the Warm Springs packing up their dead chief and heading back to the reservation. The white volunteers pushed on to Bridge Creek, arriving in daylight. They had been in the saddle for almost 48 hours with only brief breaks, and both men and horses were exhausted.
They stayed at Bridge Creek for many days recruiting their strength. The narrator reflected on the tactics they had used. The enemy outnumbered them, and had they shown themselves in the open, they would likely have fared poorly. Secrecy was their only safe course, relying on surprise and the Indians’ belief that no one would dare pursue them.
Years later, the narrator recalled this experience during the Modoc War in the lava beds, where he asked General Weaton to signal to Howard Mopin, an old Indian fighter, as soon as possible. The Modoc war cost approximately 300 men, including the life of General Canby, and the narrator noted that the country failed to justify the price of human life. As for Paulina, the Snake chief who had orchestrated the raid and murdered Kamaria, he escaped this time.
He remained a scourge of whites in southeastern Oregon until his eventual fate, a story left for another telling.