California, and now they will drive every white man from the mines.” So great indeed was the terror, that many new arrivals just up the river from San Francisco, coming to the mines from the east, turned around immediately and left. Others were scarcely dissuaded by the Oregonians themselves, or those who took their part, who declared that the trouble was now ended, if all stood together. However, it required great firmness on the part of the Columbia River men. Sutter, to whom word was sent asking if he would try the seven Indians in prison, replied that he had better not, as he could do nothing but release the men who had been captured by the murderers from Oregon. With this message from the civil authority, such as it was, the Oregonians proceeded to try the Indians themselves, disregarding Sutter entirely. But just as the Indians were being taken from prison, and were in the midst of a thick crowd of spectators, the one known as the spy made a sudden shout, and all the seven dropped on the instant to the ground and began wriggling on all fours between the legs of the astonished bystanders; the Oregon guard instantly attempted to shoot them—which created a scene of strange and almost ludicrous excitement. Two were shot at once; two were shot after they left the crowd; the other two reached the river and began swimming away, and one of these was shot as he rose on the opposite side of the stream. What became of the seventh was not known. The women and children were of course released, but with the warning that no Indian should again work on the bars. But this did not end the trouble. Another Oregonian was killed. The Oregonians again took the warpath, with the intention of killing all the savages they saw. One was soon found and dispatched. Eleven were next found and pursued to the cabin of an English rancher named Goff, who at first made no response to their summons at his door. But as the boys began picking the mud chinking out of the logs, and threatened to fire into the room, he opened the house and delivered the Indians, who were then immediately hanged. The tribe was then traced, and although taking refuge in the tules of a swamp of a marshy lake, were attacked by the guards on horseback, and all the men, and one woman, who was fighting with the men, were killed—making in all seventy-six of the tribe that fell, the Oregonians having lost by secret murder thirty-three. The women and children were again brought back by the Oregonians to Coloma, and were furnished by them with provisions and pans, and were allowed to wash gold and support themselves. But they secretly took their leave, and were found at length in a distant canyon of the high mountains, at the limit of snow, nearly starved, but subsisting on pine nuts and the roots of wild clover, gathered by a few old men in a lower valley. It was a man named Smith who traced them, as among the tribe were his Indian wife and child. They were again induced to return to Coloma, and now in a