East Oregonian : E.O. (Pendleton, OR) 1888-current, 1907-11-28
THE WHITE MANS GOD
Romdncenof ihe Whitman Massacre
By Bert Huffman

SQuaw," said gruff voice which
startled the worn mother in the
white covered emigrant wagon on tn,
western slope Of the Blue mountains
In oregon.
zone hundred ponies and 100 robe.
and slaves to wait on her and a CHIEF
for a husband" repeated the husky
voice.
For weeks in the fall of lS4- Five
Crows, chief of the Cayuses. camp
ed beside the deep worn emigrant
road and bantered every passing
throng OF westward hurrying emi-
grants for a bargain. He has been
converted to the white mans reli-
gion by Marcus Whitman and his
first and most furious ambition was
to possess a white squaw,"
The ragged emigrants. heart sick
and sunburnt with two thousand
miles of privation and peril, were in
no mood for arguing with the dusky
chief whose hunt for a white wife
had become a mania. So they drove
on in silence, leaving his banter un-
awered.
They were in the heart of the In
dian country. Sickness was killing
Indians by the dozen, Yender two
hundred miles to westward lay the
goal for which they dared the will
derness-yonder in the green swards
of the Willamette. a land OF luxur-
liant prospects and abounding dan
gers.
Seeing himself thwarted. Five
Crows assumed a naughty and i'm
perious air, drew up TO his full six
feet-four in height and said: "Am 1
not honest? No white mans blood
stains my hands. 1 believe in your
white mans God. love Marcus
Whitman. 1 have learned of your
great people from him. I am but
an Indian. but am human. 1 bring
you a fair bargain. I am no beg
gar. I am a chieftain. Why am I
scorned? Why am 1 refused? You
are coming to take my land. Yet you
refuse me a wife. will have a white
squaw."
There were both entreaty and de-
dance in the address.
The last lingering white winged
wagon rolled on westward down the
brown slopes of the oregon hills
Yonder in the distance the broad Co
Iumbia wound between its rugged bat
Elements. Still further. in the dim
glory of the dying day, cleaned the
snow capped peaks of Mt. Hood, Mt
Adams. Mt Jefferson and Mt. Ra-
nier.
The gloomy and defeated chieftain
mounted his pony and galloped drear-
ily across the brown hills toward his
lodge on the Walla Walla.
Along the Umatilla river at every
lodge hung the ripened COLDER
corn-the first grown in that wild
region. 1t was the sign Of the cross
interpreted in the husbandry of the
savage. When the tribes had once
starved and pilfered and roamed from
stream to stream in detection and
poverty. they now feasted and were
happy. Whitman had planted corn
for them and had given them the
husbandman's spirit.
AS Five Crows galloped among the
lonely tepees on the sheltered river,
he wondered II the story told him
by Whitman concerning his soul and
his destiny could be true. He doubt
ed it, for did not the whites spurn
him? Had he not been taught their
religion and that all men are broth
ers and had not his own brothers re-
fused him his dearest wish?
Suddenly a horseman Joined him
as he crossed a deep canyon in the
frowning hills. It was 10 Lewis, the
half breed Cherokee and French in
terpreter.
1.-The white man hates you or ne
would give you a white squaw," said
Lewis between his set teeth, as he
rode beside Five Crows. ''He is not
a brother to the Indian. You are no
better than his dogs. You. the proud
chief OF the Cayuses. cannot even
buy poor white squaw. Why don't
you kill the white men ?"
Hush" said the chieftain. "sDeak
no more. l am thinking my own
thoughts 1 will speak with you to-
morrow or some other day" The two
galloped together in silence toward
the walla walla-
1t was dark when Five Crows
reached the whitman mission at
wa'ilatpu, the place Of Rye Grass.
The mill wheel was still. The silent
mission house, in which the Indians
listened to the word, was empty, and
the dim lights shone from the study
of the missionary.
Five Crows shuffled into the study
unannounced. as was the Indian Gus
tom. The Whitman mission was al
ways open to the Indians. They
came and went at will. The devoted
missionary trusted them and inspired
their confidence by doing this
There, alone in his study. DR..
Whitman was planning his work. The
look as the chieftaln entered the
room and squatted on a bear skin
by the fire.
''Dr. Whit'an you say all men
brother?" asked the chieftain
surely. Five Crows, and there Is
one father. the God you and wor-
ship" replied the missionary.
"You say white men love Indian?"
pressed the frowning savage.
Certainly I do, my beloved son."
said Whitman.
"But all white men do not love
the Indian?"
Have I not always kept my word
-wtth ,,o,, Esiva Crowe 1D aaLad tha