A Survivor's Recollections of the Whitman Massacre — John Shaqi
A Survivor's Recollections of the Whitman MassacreSager, Matilda
History
A Survivor's Recollections of the Whitman Massacre
Sager, Matilda
Whitman, Marcus, 1802-1847
Geiger returned unexpectedly from California, went up to get their
things left on the Yamhill, and we settled down on the farm and life
went on. I didn't attend school that year, for there was no school. The
Reverend Eels came down in the spring of 50 to teach private school. I
went three months, walking three and a half miles each way. Mr. Geiger
paid five dollars for three months' schooling.
There were large herds of Mexican cattle owned in the valley and they
would chase everything except someone on horseback. Everyone owned a
few of the domestic cattle with them and they proved very useful, as
the tame cattle stood guard until the others were chased away. I was in
continual fear of being chased by them. They would lie down to watch
you all day and I would skirt along in the bushes, working my way along
tremblingly to get out and away to school without their seeing me. If
these long-horned Spanish cattle chased a person up a tree they would
lie under the tree all day on guard. Wolves chased the cattle, trying
to get the little calves. Pigs would have to be bedded right up against
the house on account of the coyotes and wolves.
While I was at the Cornwalls in '49, we lived right where the Indians
passed by on the trail coming down the valley. The Indians were not on
reserves then. When the men folks were gone the women were very afraid
of the Indians. They were women of the South, reared with a certain
fear of the negroes, and this fear extended to the Indians. When the
Indians were in the vicinity they would have me cover up the fire and
if any of the babies needed any attention, I was the one who would have
to give it and rake out the coals and make a fire for the baby. We had
chickens and had a stick chimney; and in a corner of the chimney was a
chicken-roost. One night old Mrs. Cornwall spied what she thought was
an Indian looking through the chinking of the log house. I said, "Oh, I
think not, I don't hear anything." But they hurried me up to
investigate and it was soon found to be the light shining on the old
rooster's eyes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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