Memoirs of Orange Jacobs Part 9

Cartwright's signal of danger; and their master, being at home, urged them to the rescue. When their welcome bay approached, the cougar ceased his purring, stood up, and soon leaped off into the dark forest and disappeared, very much to Mr. Cartwright's relief. He presently reached the river, unmoored his boat, and with the aid of a strong current soon reached his home.

An Experience of My Own

In the summer of 1855, I accompanied a hunting and fishing party, high up into the Cascade Mountains. Our route was along the Santiam River, and we made our final camp, at the west end of a narrow prairie, that stretched along for over a mile at the foot of the mountain ridge, on the south side of the river--a short distance beyond, was the highest table land, or dividing plateau of the mountains. The fishing was excellent--the hunting--it being the month of August, was indifferent; because the black-tailed buck at that season was lying in some sunny spot on the mountain side near water and gra.s.s--hardening his horns.

My companions in wandering or climbing along the brush covered sides of the mountains, had several times started a large buck who pa.s.sed down the sides of the mountains by, to him, a well known but secret trail, and crossed the head of the narrow prairie, and then dashed through the thick brush by an accustomed trail to the river below. The s.p.a.ce between this prairie and the river, was a succession of descending benches.

These benches had before this time been covered with a very thick growth of fir. When this fir had reached the height of eight or ten feet, a fire ran through, and killed nearly all of it, and another growth of fir had sprung up, making the descent to the river an almost impa.s.sable tangled ma.s.s. As we were out of venison, it was proposed that I take two rifles and go to the head of this narrow prairie, while my companions should go up on the mountain side, and by the making of a great deal of noise, start this buck from his sylvan retreat, and when he came down the mountain and crossed the upper end of the prairie, I should improve the opportunity to kill him. The plan worked admirably.

He came through the thick brush on the mountain side, and dashed across the prairie. When he was nearly opposite to me, I fired at him with my own rifle, but struck him a little too far back. Before I could get the second rifle in my hands, he was in the brush and out of sight. I reloaded my own rifle, and went to the spot where he was when I fired, and I found that he was shot through the lungs, because the blood came out in sprays; and as it came out on both sides the bullet had evidently, pa.s.sed through him. I followed him up slowly, by crawling through the brush--sometimes on my hands and knees, and at other times, after the manner of a serpent. He stopped frequently. When he did, he left a small pool of blood. My judgment was that the bullet struck him while he was stretched out, and that the skin closed at time over the mouth of the wound; and that he was bleeding internally--I concluded that as soon as he attempted to go down a steep incline, the blood would rush forward and smother him.

I approached a gully or deep ravine, which he must cross, and I carefully kept a big ash tree, that stood on the rim of the gully, between me and the gully. When I arrived at the tree I stealthily looked down into the gully and saw the buck in a small open s.p.a.ce, and also a large cougar, standing along his back intently looking at him in the face. I m.u.f.fled the c.o.c.k of my rifle, and soon sent a bullet through the cougar's head. He fell beside the dead buck. Disregarding the safe rule of the hunter, without loading my rifle, I slipped down the steep incline and with the breech of my rifle I straightened out his tail, and was just in the act of pacing to ascertain his length from the tip of his tail to the end of the nose, for that is the hunter's rule for determining the size. Just as I was in the act of doing this, a small quant.i.ty of fine white bark fell on me and all around me, I looked up and on a large limb of the ash tree, nearly directly over my head, I saw a female cougar. Her hair was raised up, her back bowed, and her tail rolling. She was crouched for a spring. I kept my eyes upon her, raised my powder-horn to my mouth and pulled out the stopper with my teeth--then felt for the muzzle of the gun and poured until I thought I had powder enough, and soon after found that I did have plenty. I then took a bullet out of my pouch and rammed it down without a patch--dropped the ramrod to the ground and put a cap on the nipple.

Then I gently raised the gun towards her, and she showing a good deal of agitation, drew herself up into a menacing att.i.tude as prepared to spring--but I quickly fired and she came from the limb seemingly leaping as though she had not been struck at all. I jumped back a few feet, but her nose brushed me as she was descending to the ground. She fell dead at my feet. I had my hunting-knife in my hand ready to plunge it into her if she moved--but the bullet had done its work effectually.

I have always been of the opinion that I shot her just as she was in the act of making a leap upon me. I loaded my rifle and then crawled to the top of the gully, and my companions soon joined me. I rehea.r.s.ed my adventure to them, and after so doing, one of them went for a pack-mule, while the others sought out a pa.s.sable route through the brush to the prairie. The mule protested against his load, but blind-folding allayed his fears.

A Battle Rarely Seen

Late in the fall of 1867, I accompanied the Hon. P. P. Prim, who was District Judge for Jackson and Josephine Counties, Oregon, from Jacksonville to Kerbyville--the county seat of Josephine County--to attend a term of court to be held at Kerbyville in the last named county. The Honorable James D. Fay, and also other lawyers accompanied the Judge to Josephine court. There had been high water and sweeping floods which had rendered the crossing of the Applegate River on the bridge, which was located about two miles above the Applegate's junction with Rogue River, dangerous and impa.s.sable. So as we were making the journey on horse back, we crossed Applegate about twenty miles above the bridge and pursued our journey along and over the foothills on the left bank of the river, intending to stop at a hotel on Slate Creek on the left bank of the Applegate, and on the north bank of said creek about two miles from said hotel. Pa.s.sing across the mouth of a cove in the hills, we heard to our left a noise, and looking in that direction, we saw a female cougar and a mealy-nosed brown bear engaged in a b.l.o.o.d.y battle. We stopped and watched the fight for about half an hour. The battle ground was on a gentley sloping gra.s.s-covered side hill. The bear persistently kept the upper side. The cougar kept in front of him. The cougar was forcing the fighting. The battle proceeded with almost regular rounds. The cougar paced back and forth in front of the bear for a few moments; the bear intently watching her movements, when she would make a spring; the contact was furious. Sometimes they would seize each other with the jaw-hold, and to our astonishment the cougar was more than a match for the bear in this hold, and the bear made every effort to break it--throwing himself upon the ground, and digging furiously into the cougar with the claws of his hind legs. By these means he would speedily break the jaw-hold of the cougar. The hold having been broken, and the combatants having separated, the cougar would pace back and forth in front of the bear for a few moments and then leap upon him again. Sometimes the bear would hug the cougar closely, and use the claws of his hind feet with terrific effect. Thus the fight proceeded. Both were covered with blood. The bear would quietly sit during the intermissions in the fight. As the day was fast waining, we left them still fighting, determining that we would go to Slate creek--cross it--get some rifles from our host, and then return; but when we came to Slate creek, we found it a raging torrent--overflowing its banks, and spreading out over its narrow valley. Our host, antic.i.p.ating our coming, had selected a place for our crossing of the creek. We had to swim our horses across the dangerous current for some twenty or twenty-five feet, and although we successfully made it, yet we were thoroughly wet. Although our host having hunter's blood in his veins, was anxious to go to the scene of the conflict, yet we so dreaded the crossing and re-crossing of Slate creek that we denied ourselves the pleasure.

On our return about a week afterwards two of us stopped over at our friend's, and went with our host out to the battle ground; but we found no trace of either combatant.

On my return to Jacksonville I wrote up and published an account of the battle--it was signed by all who witnessed the fight--but I have not the ma.n.u.script nor its copy.

We all had our opinions of the cause of the conflict. The prevailing opinion was that the bear had been interfering with the young of the cougar.

The lynx, and wildcat may be briefly noted. They are both nocturnal marauders. They are rarely seen in the daytime. Either of them located in a dense copse near the ranch or farm, with a forest-reach beyond, is a pestiferous nuisance which must be abated with a gun, dog, or trap, before either lamb, pig, or chicken is safe. I do not believe in poisoning. It is cowardly and dangerous.

The wildcat is an intractable and untamable animal. His ferocity is never softened under the influence of kindly treatment. He is the concentrated embodiment of spite and viciousness. Chained, it is always dangerous to get within the inner circle of the metallic tether. He is the pest of the deer-hunter. There is no mode of hanging up your game, if you leave it in the woods over night, which is safe from the thieving of this ever-hungry marauder.

On two occasions, I have found him seated on the hams or saddle of my suspended venison, and I have shot him. On the last occasion, I did not kill but severely wound him. I approached him. He was fiercely on the warpath and tried to get to me. I put a bullet through his brain and ended his warlike career.

Two species of wolves are natives of Washington--the everywhere present coyote, and the large dark-gray wolf of the mountains. The coyote does not in any considerable numbers visit the Puget Sound basin, or tributary country west of the Cascade Mountains. His choice habitat is the sage-brush plain, and the gra.s.sy undulations of the great Columbia River basin. The mountains and their rough and sunless canyons are the habitat of the large dark-gray wolf. He also loves the depressions in the high mountain ranges where there exists usually an alternation of marsh and thick forest. His dismal howl may nearly always be heard amid the solemn stillness of these places. It was and still is dangerous to tether or hobble your horse in such a place, as the early immigrants learned to their sorrow. Many a fine animal was hamstrung or seriously wounded. Large packs of these wolves often follow the deer, their usual prey, to the foothills and outlying settlements. While the wolf in this country is not considered an animal dangerous to man, yet, when driven from his mountain home by hunger, and he a.s.sembles in packs in the foothills and low grounds, he may be and probably is dangerous. An experienced hunting friend of mine of the name of Taylor lived on a ranch, in the early pioneer days, about a mile south of the now busy and prosperous town of North Bend, in King County. This small but fertile valley in which his pioneer home was located, lay near the base of the foothills of the Cascade Mountains. It was his custom, after a light fall of snow, with his trusty rifle in hand, to mount his favorite riding horse, and, with a pack animal at his side, to go to the timber skirting a prairie adjacent to the foothills, to kill from one to three fat bucks, and to return the same day. On one of these occasions, carefully hunting three or four hours for game, he found no deer, but saw plenty of wolf tracks. He concluded that there had been an invasion of his hunting ground by mountain wolves, and a departure of the deer for safer feeding grounds. He immediately commenced his return to the trail where his horses were tied. Soon, however, he heard the patter of feet and saw a slight movement in the brush on every side of him. A closer observation showed that he was encircled, by from fifteen to twenty mountain wolves. Although a man of nerve, he confessed that he was somewhat alarmed. His situation was a novel one to him. He had a muzzle loading rifle, as he had always refused to adopt the repeating rifle because of its alleged want of accuracy. As the wolves were slowly contracting the circle surrounding him, he concluded to tree. He did so, taking his rifle up with him. The wolves formed a circle about the tree and, sitting or slowly moving about, looked intently at him as if in expectation of their coming feast. Solemnly contemplating the situation, and its possible dire results, he concluded to try the effect of a shot upon this hungry pack. Quickly suiting the action to the resolve, he sent a bullet crashing through the brain of one of the larger ones. The animal leaped into the air and fell dead. Its companions rushed upon it and fiercely tore its body to pieces. Finding that his first shot was ineffective for rescue and quickly deciding on a theory different from that which prompted the first shot, he sent a bullet into the abdomen, of one of the sitting and waiting animals. This always produces a stinging, writhing and painful wound. The animal struck, leaped into the air, wheeled around several times, and then, with a dismal and alarming howl, started off, his companions with him, on that "long gallop that can tire the hound's deep hate and the hunter's fire." My friend, thus fortunately relieved from his imprisonment, quickly descended from his perch and hastened with anxious steps to his horses--and then to his home.

The most valuable and useful of all the game family to man, and especially to the pioneer, was and is the deer. Without venison the table of the pioneer would be lacking in one of life's choicest and most sustaining food. Of beef, pork and mutton, in any of their various forms, he had none. The rifle was his purveyor; a table furnished with delicious venison, the realization.

Deer are everywhere to be found in this State, and especially in the wooded country west of the dividing-ridge of the Cascade Mountains.

While he likes open ridges and sunny coves as a roaming or feeding-ground, a dense thicket or sylvan bower is the deer's dormitory.

I can say, without a breach of modesty, that I have been a great deer-hunter. I have found him in larger numbers on the islands of the Sound, than elsewhere. On one of these islands, Whidby, I found quite a number of pure white, and also spotted or, to use the popular expression, calico deer. Before this I had doubted somewhat the existance of the pure white deer; but while hunting on that island I came in view of a large five-p.r.o.nged white buck, a spotted doe--his seeming companion--and two calico fawns. I saw them from ambush, and my first impression was to shoot the buck; but I hesitated, and finally concluded not to do it. After observing them for some time, I alarmed them and they disappeared in the contiguous woods. After their departure, I went to the ranch of a pioneer-friend, and I found that he had in a small park a pure white buck and five does--some spotted, and others of the ordinary color. I learned from him that the progeny of the buck in a great majority of cases was of the usual color--sometimes calico, but rarely pure white. I tried to purchase the only pure white fawn--offering fifty dollars for it--but he refused.

Deer were so plentiful in pioneer days, especially on the islands of the Sound, that the pioneer had to fence against them. These fences were from ten to twelve feet in height, and, as one expressed it, made water-tight. The deer is very fond of growing oats, of potatoes, which he readily digs with his sharp hoofs, of cabbage and lettuce, and other products of the field and garden.

The cougar, the wolf and the lynx, the natural enemies and destroyers of the deer for food, do not exist on the islands; hence their large and, if left to natural causes, their constantly increasing numbers.

The deer on the islands of the Sound, as a general rule, are smaller than those on the mainland; and my observation is, that they increase in size as you go back from the sh.o.r.es of the Sound, through the continuous woods, to the foothills and mountain-slopes.

All of the deer in this State belong to what is familiarly known as the black-tailed family. It is not common in the great basin of Puget Sound, including therein all of the country west of the dividing-ridge of the Olympic Range, to find and kill a deer decidedly fat. In Southern Oregon I have killed what was called bench-bucks, as fat as any mutton I ever saw; but the ridges and foothills where they roam were covered with oak timber, which produced an abundant supply of acorns, of which they are very fond and upon which they plentifully feed. Such food is rich and fattening. There are no oaks or acorns in this State; at most, they are so exceptional as not to deserve notice.

Lingering along the snow-line in the mountains, and ascending and descending with it, is a species of deer known as the mule-deer. He is so called for two reasons: first, many males have dark stripes across their shoulders and the same kind of stripes across the loin; the mule-deer has the same; secondly, the mule-deer has enormous ears, equalling, if not exceeding, in size those of the mule. His head is more like a calf's head than that of a deer. He frequently reaches in weight two-hundred-and-fifty and even three hundred pounds. He is king of the deer family. He is not often shot, as he is known, only, to the hunter and the adventurous pioneer.

This concludes my brief account of the game and other animals of Washington. Well-considered laws have been pa.s.sed by the Legislature for the protection and preservation of the useful, and for the destruction of the non-useful and dangerous animals. It is hoped that these laws may be thoroughly enforced.

During my residence on the Pacific Coast I have, on invitation, delivered many addresses before Bar a.s.sociations, County and State; before Odd Fellows' and Masonic Lodges and Literary Societies. I have p.r.o.nounced obituary addresses on the life and character of persons of National, State, and local reputation. Many of these I have in ma.n.u.script. I give here an address on reminiscences of the Bench and Bar in early days, delivered before the Washington State Bar a.s.sociation at its meeting in Seattle in July, 1894:

ADDRESS.

"Called upon at the eleventh hour to fill the place of one well qualified by education, by experience and by a wider and more extended observation than myself in the field of legal reminiscences, I feel some-what the embarra.s.sment of the situation. The Committee showed the highest appreciation of the fitness of things and of persons, when they made my friend, now recreating in the sunny clime of California, their first choice for the pleasing task now, unfortunately for the a.s.sociation, devolved upon me. It is a case of devolution, not evolution. I possess not that gravity of countenance, nor that dignity of demeanor, nor that solemnity of vocal utterance, so necessary to give full zest even to a well-told tale. My absent friend possesses these qualities in a high degree.

"In every new and spa.r.s.ely-settled country there is always a closer social intercourse between the Bench and the Bar, and a greater freedom of utterance, than in after-years. When population increases to the dimensions of a Commonwealth, and costly Court Houses are built, there is connected with every Court-room, a sort of 'holy of holies,' from which the Judge emerges in the morning and, after the crier performs his duties, into which he enters at night. This may, and probably does, aid in the dispatch of business, but it operates as an effectual curtailment of that free-and-easy social intercourse which once existed. We rarely see the Judge now except when he is fully clad with judicial thunder. I do not know that I desire a full return of the customs of other days, but I would, if I could, check this tendency to social isolation.

"In those good old days, my absent friend was discussing a motion before his Honor, Judge Greene, involving the question of whether certain alleged facts amounted to fraud. In support of his contention, my friend was reading copious extracts from _Browne on the Statute of Frauds_. In doing so, he was constantly calling that author's name Brown-e? 'Why do you call that name Brown-e?' asked the Judge. 'It is spelled,'

answered our friend, with charming gravity, 'B-r-o-w-n-e; if that is not Brow-ne, I would like to know what it does spell?'

'I spell my name,' said the Judge, 'G-r-e-e-n-e. You would not call me Gree-ne, would you?' 'That depends,' replied our friend, 'on how your Honor decides this motion.' The Judge waived the contempt and joined in a general laugh.

"It is a delicate matter to discuss the qualities, mental and otherwise of a living and honored brother, and I hope to be pardoned for the following: Wit and humor, though distinct, are often confounded. The grave and solemn man is often full of humorous conceptions. He suppresses their utterance sometimes with difficulty. He consumes them in an internal feast of pleasure. It is an exhilerating, but lonely feast. In this there may be a tinge of selfishness; but we will not condemn.

But when he opens the mental throttle and allows them to flow forth, they give pleasure to all and continue as a pleasant and fragrant memory. Judge Greene, though not a wit, is full of humor. His description of an 'Inspector afloat,' in an Admiralty case in this then District, in which he contrasted what an Inspector afloat ought to do and see with what this Inspector did not do or see, is an admirable specimen of genuine humor. I believe that it was published at the time, but I presume that only a few of my hearers have ever seen it. It ought to be republished. It is worth preserving. It was possibly this latent trait in the Judge's mental const.i.tution that led to the following scene:

"There was an attorney at Steilacoom, where Court was then held, of the name of Hoover. He was a bright, active young man, but his chirography resembled, in illegibility if not in form, the Egyptian hieroglyphics. He filed for a client an answer to a complaint. The Honorable Frank Clark, attorney for the plaintiff, demurred to it, because it did not state facts sufficient to const.i.tute a defence; in fact, did not state anything; that if it did, it was wholly illegible and past finding out. As soon as Mr. Clark had finished reading his demurrer, the Judge, who prided himself on his ability to read all forms of handwriting, asked Mr. Clark to hand the answer to him, saying that he thought he could read it. It was handed up to the Judge. He read the first line in the body of the answer all right, but utterly broke down on the second line. He scaned the remainder of the answer deliberately and with care, then handed it to Mr. Hoover, asking him to read it; the Judge meantime watching him with an intensified if not admiring gaze.

When Mr. Hoover had finished the Court said, 'Mr. Hoover, hold up your hand.' Mr. Hoover did so, and in that solemn position the Court swore Mr. Hoover as to the correctness and truthfulness of his interpretation of that answer. Mr. Hoover has since left the profession of law and gone into the more lucrative business of banking. On account of the unjust criticism sometimes made on my own hand-manual, I feel inclined to treat him kindly.

"There may be a dash of the _ego_ in the following reminiscences, but it will be seen that I was but the incident or subordinate actor, or more the victim, than otherwise.

"While the Third was my Judicial District, I was ordered by the Legislature of 1869 and 1870 to hold Court in the Second as well. The docket at Vancouver, for various causes not necessary for me to mention, had become very much clogged. There were over two hundred cases, civil and criminal, awaiting trial. The Legislature gave me six weeks to clear up that Docket. I went to Vancouver a little out of humor from the imposition of double duties, but with the determination to accomplish the task within the alloted time, if continued and sharp work would do it. I made myself something of a judicial tyrant during that term. I ran Court from eight o'clock in the morning, with evening sessions often extending until twelve o'clock at night.

Motions and demurrers were read, and I heard only the party against whom I was inclined to rule on the reading. I took nothing under advis.e.m.e.nt. I limited the time of address to juries, adjusting the time according to the importance of the case and the character of the rights involved. The local and visiting Bar showed their appreciation of the situation and wasted no needless time in the direct, or cross-examination of witnesses. We finished up our work on the last day of the alloted time, and of all that ma.s.s of cases heard and finally determined at that time, not one was taken to the Supreme Court.

"Quite a number of amusing incidents occured that tended to relieve the monotony and lighten the burden of our labors. By your permission, I will relate one.

"A man had been indicted for a grievious a.s.sault and battery.

The alleged place of the a.s.sault was in the woods near the northern limits of the town. The second witness for the prosecution was a school teacher from Washougal. He was a tall and lank man, with high cheek bones, sunken cheek and eyes, and sandy hair. He had about him an air of conscious superiority.

After he had been sworn, he advanced to the witness-stand which was directly to my right. Before he took his seat, however, he courteously bowed to me and, with a dignified waive of his hand, saluted the Court. The following was his description of the a.s.sault and battery:

"'The prosecuting witness was sitting calmly and sedately on a log, when the prisoner approached with stealthy yet intrepid, steps, until he approximated in close proximity to his person, sir'--The Court interrupted: 'If you can get along without making a stump speech, we will be very much obliged to you.'

'Thank your Honor,' he responded. 'Proceed,' said the Court.

'As I was remarking, the prosecuting witness was sitting calmly and sedately on a log, when the prisoner approached with stealthy, yet intrepid, steps, until he approximated in close proximity to his person, sir, when he reached forth his digits and fastened them in the capillary filaments of the prosecutor's head, and then, with a tremendous jerk, laid him p.r.o.ne and prostrate on the ground; then he lifted his heel high in air and sent it with such force and violence into the countenance of the prosecutor that it has left an impression indelible to this day, sir.' 'That will do,' said the Court; 'You can go.' He arose with a courteous bow to the Court and a wave of his right hand towards the Bar, said: 'Thank your Honor for releasing me from the impertinence of these attorneys.' And he proudly walked out of that court house. The Court surrendered its dignity for a time and joined in the storm of laughter.

"Pierce County, now a model of intellectual and moral progress, with a thrifty, energetic and law-abiding population, was, in early Territorial days, a hotbed of local feuds frequently resulting in homicide. She had no Tacoma, then, to control the spirit of lawlessness and to teach her citizens that life's truer conflicts are different, and n.o.bler. This County was in the Third Judicial District, over whose Courts I had the honor to preside for six years. At one of these terms of Court a man of the name of Walker was indicted for the murder of his nearest neighbor. Walker and his said neighbor were both unmarried and lived in cabins not far apart. Both were stock-raisers, and both were well advanced in years. No one saw the killing and it was, therefore, a case of circ.u.mstantial evidence.

"The body of the neighbor, when found, lay near a gate that entered Walker's pasture-field, and the right side, from the shoulder down to a point opposite to the navel, was perforated with shot. I will not attempt to state the circ.u.mstances on which the prosecution relied; suffice it to say, they pointed with a good deal of force to the guilt of the accused; but I will not say, in opposition to the verdict of the jury that they excluded every hypothesis of innocence. The prisoner was ably defended by Judge Wyche, James McNaught, Irving Ballard and Gov. Wallace. The Honorable C. M. Bradshaw was the prosecuting attorney, and he was ably a.s.sisted by the Hon.

Frank Clark. The trial occupied the attention of the Court for four days. On the second day of the trial, a lady tastefully dressed, but closely veiled, entered the Court with the prisoner's counsel, and, when the prisoner came, took a seat by his side. She was evidently a stranger, and 'who is she?'

was on the lips of everyone. At the noon recess it was learned that she was the daughter of the prisoner. Day by day she appeared, took her accustomed seat, and remained a silent and mournful listener to the damaging testimony given against her father. At noon of the fourth day I thought the testimony was all in. At the call of the Court after recess I was somewhat astonished by the announcement of Judge Wyche that he wished to put one more witness on the stand. I was still more surprised when he asked, this daughter, to take the witness-stand. She moved across the room in front of the large audience in a dignified and graceful manner, her face still veiled. Before she was sworn, Judge Wyche requested her to remove her veil, and she did so, revealing a countenance beautiful, intelligent and sorrowful. Judge Wyche asked her to state her age. She answered, twenty-four. Ques. 'What relation are you if any, to the prisoner?' 'He is my father.' Ques. 'Before you came here, how long had it been since you last saw your father?' Ans.

'About fifteen years.' Ques. 'Are you married?' Ans. 'I am.'