, 1892-10-20
MULTNOMAH'S END.
How the Great War Chief Jour
neYed in Death.
The Historic Legend OF the Early
Indian and the FaII OF the Nat
uraI Bridge Across the Column
bta.
Special Correspondence OF The Tribune.

bta.
Special Correspondence Of The Tribune
HOOP RIVER, Ore, October 20.
Shortly before the eruption of Mount
Hood, the trembling of the earth and the
consequent destruction of the bridge, and
with it the destruction and dispersion of
the Willamettes, Tohomish, "The Pine
Voice." and most eloquent of the chiefs,
exclaims sorrowfully to Multnomah: ''The
vision told in the council has come back
to me again. The cry of woe heard far
off then is nearer now, and the throng on
the death-trail passes thicker and swifter.
The time is close at handl'
The narration of one of the periodical out
burts of Mount Hood, the announcement
Of the fall of the bridge and the burial OF
the great war-chief, Multnomah, are neces-
essary to conclude my sketch, already un-
seasoDably extended.
"Over the valley Mount Adams lowered,
wrapped in dusky clouds, and from Mount
Hood steamed intermittent bursts of smoke
and flame that grew palmer as the twi-
light fell. Louder, as the hush of evening
deepened, came the sullen roar from Mount
Hood. Below the crater, the ice-helds that
had glistened in an unbroken Whiteness the
previous day were now furrOwed
with wide black streaks, from which
the Yapor of melting snow and burn
ing lava ascended in dense wreaths.
Men wiser than these ignorant savages
would have said that some terrible cOnYul-
sion was at hand The earth shook beneath
till one ataggered, almost fell; huts
creaked and swayed. like stOrm-driven
wrecks, and through the crevices on the
side toward Mount Hood came a binding
burst of flame. Down from the great gap
in the Cascade range, through which flows
the Columbia, rolled a far-Oif laundering
crash; then, tenfOld louder than before,
came again the roar of the volcano. Too
well Multnomah knew what had gone down
in that crash too well did he read the sign
that had been given. "lt has come at last, 7"
he said, ''as the wise men of old said it
would. The end is at hand the William
cites pass like a shadow from the earth.
The Great Spirit has tOrsaken us, our to-
manOwos has failed us, but my own heart
fails me not, and my own arm is strong.
Like a war-chief will 1 meet that which is
to come. Multnomah falls-but he falls as
the bridge has fallen, with a crash that will
shake the earth, with a force that will
crush all beneath him. even as he goes
down." A runner from the upper Colum-
bia, who had come thirty miles since dawn
about TO announce some unheard of calam-
ity. "The Great Spirit has shaken the
the earth, and the Bridge of the Gods has
fallenl" Now the bridge was broken and
the dominion of the Willamettes was
broken forever with it.
g A large canoe with great white wings
like bird, had come gliding over ihe waters
to the coast near the mouth Of the Wanna.
Whence it came no one could tell but its
crew were pale of skin like the great white
shaman in the council, and seemed of his
race. Some of them came ashore in
small canoe to trade with the Indians, but
trouble rose between them and there was a
battle. The strangers slew very many In
dians with their magic, darting fire at them
from long black tubes. Then the great
canoe spread its wings and passed away
from sight into the sea.
1t was a strange funeral they gave Null
tnomah in keeping with the dark grand life
he had lived his impassiye face IN its inn
posing regularity of feature, revealing the
penetration that had read everything, a re-
serve that had revealed nothing, dominat-
ing power that had given strength and
command to every line.
The forest fires were raging with unusual
fury. Mount Hood was still in course Of
eruption, and all the valley was wrapped
in settled cloud. Through the thick at
mOsphere the tall frs lOOmed like spectres,
while the far-Of roar of flames in the forest
and the intermittent sound of the volcano
came weirdly to the Indians as they passed
on their way to the Mimaluse Island. A
large canoe was filled with pitch and with
pine knots. Upon them was heaped all
that was left Of the chiefs riches, and
finally was laid the dead body of Multno-
nah dressed in buckskin, his mOocasins on
his feet, his tomahawk and his pipe by his
side, as became a chief starting on his last
journey. Then, as night came on, and the
smoky air darkened into deepest gloom,
the canoe was taken out into the main cur
rent of the Columbia, and fire was set to
the dry knots that made up the funeral
pyre. In an instant the contents of the
canoe were in a blaze, and it was set adrift
in the current Down the river it floated
lighting the night with leaping flames On
the shore the assem- bled tribe watched it in
silence, mute, detected, as they saw their
great chief borne from them forever.
Promontory and dusky fir, cleaning water
and level beach, were brought into start
/ ling relief against the background of night,
as the burning vessel neared them, then
sank into shadow as it passed onward
Overhead, the playing tongues Of fire
/ Redeemed the smoke that hung dense
over the water, and made it assume
/ distorted and fantastic shapes, which
/ moved and Writhed in the WaYering
! light. and to the Indians seemed spectres
of the dead, lowering over the canoe, reach
ing out their arms TO receive the soul OF
| Multnomah. The canoe drifted further
and further down the river like some giant
! torchsthat was to light the war.chief along
the shadowy way of death. Rounding a
wooded point it blazed a moment brill
iantly beside it, and as it drifted to the far
ther side, outlined the intervening trees
with fire, till every branch was clearly re-
heved against flaming back ground, then
passing on beyond the point, the light
waned gradually and at last slowly faded
quite away.
The once musical language of the Will.
lamette has degenerated into the uncouth
Chinook and the blood Of the ancient race
flows mixed and debased in the veins o
abject and squalid descendants, but the
story of the mighty bridge that one,
spanned the Columbia at the Cascades, il
still told by the Oregon Indians. Mingled
with much of fable, overlaid with mytf
and superstition, it is nevertheless one o
the historic legends of the Columbia, anC
as such will never be forgotten.
Gil