"The Indians have broken loose and are killing everybody!" shouted a mud-besplattered and excited horseman as he dashed into the busy town of Jacksonville, in Southern Oregon, on the 9th of October, 1855. [Henry Klippel identifies the horseman as George Anderson, arriving in Jacksonville at midnight of the 9th.]
    Dismounting from his foam-flecked and panting steed, he repeated to the crowd which had gathered about him: "The red devils broke out of the reservation last night and killed every man along Rogue River. Yes, and the women and children, too. They've burned all the houses and run off the cattle, and God knows what they haven't done. I just came from Jewett's ferry."
    Thus saying, he staggered to a seat, while the excited crowd plied him with questions.
    "I was asleep in the old log house (built in 1851 by Perkins, then owner of the ferry, and made bulletproof as a defense against Indians) at Jewett's ferry, and several others were there. Just before day, or maybe at 3 or 4 o'clock, 'whish' went a bullet through the shingles. Then there was a fearful howl, and a lot more guns were fired. We got down on the floor at first, but when lights were got we found we were all right and we began to fire back. We saw through the dark a dozen Indians firing at the house. In about half an hour they left, and we waited till daybreak and looked out and saw a man dead on the ground near the house. His name is Hamilton, and he was camped close to the ferry. We looked for his partner and found him in the bushes, where his groaning drew us. He is terrible bad off--shot four times."
    "Is that the Hamilton that's bringing the iron for the new mill?" interrupted a bystander. "Yes, I expect it is, for that's what his train was loaded with," responded the messenger. "Then we looked around, keeping an eye out for Indians until about 10 o'clock. We didn't leave the house before nine, for fear on 'em--and found nothing more, only Robbins come tearing from Evans' and says, 'the whole country is murdered. Jones and his wife are shot; Wagoner and his family are killed, and the Indians have beat Haines' brains out. I want you fellows to go back with me just as soon as you can and look and see who's left alive."
    As these disjointed words were repeated about the town, great excitement ensued. Jacksonville was full of people, mainly refugees from the surrounding mining camps and farming settlements, for the whole surrounding country was, and had been for many days, in anticipation of trouble with the Indians, although of less serious nature than that which now cast such a chill over the stoutest hearts. A large number of the inhabitants of Jackson and Josephine counties were "forted up," that is, had collected in strong buildings, bulletproof and large enough to contain several families. A large number of men were required to defend these detached posts, and even in Jacksonville itself some apprehensions of danger to the town were felt, although the number of men there capable of bearing arms was several hundred. Very quickly, however, a volunteer force of about twenty active and fearless men were in the saddle and set off at a swift gallop for the north side of the Rogue River, where the atrocities had been committed. While they ride to succor the helpless victims of savagery, let us examine the route which they followed and the region toward which they directed their headlong steps.
    The railway which in 1885 connects the valley of the Rogue with that of the Willamette passes for nearly eighty miles of its way along the route formerly known as the old California trail, and later as the California and Oregon road. In 1855 and thereabouts, the era of extensive mining in Northern California and Southern Oregon, this trail, then broadened and graded to the actuality of a fair wagon road, was the sole communication between such important mining centers as Jacksonville and Yreka, and was in fact the only means of land communication between the state (then territory) of Oregon and California. Along it at various convenient localities were scattered, as the fashion of the times then was, no small number of eating and lodging houses and drinking saloons, where the wayfarer might refresh himself and his horse. A vast traffic passed over this road, vast if it is considered that the sole means of transportation were heavy wagons and trains of pack mules. By such means the miners were supplied with the necessaries of life and the implements of their trade, from such a distant shipping port as Scottsburg, and even from Portland. The traveler who has the good fortune to pass by daylight over that portion of the Oregon & California Railway which lies between the South Umpqua and Rogue rivers will see a deal of most charming and interesting and even sublime scenery, and he will find, if he seeks opportunity to question the older inhabitants of the stations, that these localities are fruitful in traditionary lore.
    Parallel to the railway and not far to the eastward lay the old California trail, where were enacted the scenes which are about to be described. Along the Rogue, from the point where Grants Pass now stands, up as far as the Upper Table Rock, every mentionable locality bears its tale of Indian occupancy and Indian cruelty, or of white man's tyranny and overpowering mastership. In the sands of the Rogue River gold was found worth a king's ransom. The crest of yonder symmetrical hill--Gold Hill, it is fittingly called--bears a vein of quartz, the story of whose wealth rivals the wondrous tales of Aladdin and his lamp. Not far from the track and half-concealed in the brush which kindly nature has sent to heal the scars of man's occupancy, the remains of a military stronghold are to be seen--a stronghold whose use was temporary and whose site is half-forgotten, but whose name is destined to endure, honoring Oregon's first governor and first senator. Not far away, in fact only a score of miles to the northwest, beyond the sandstone-capped [sic] summit of the Lower Table Rock, Gen. Lane fought a severe battle with the Indians and compelled them to a peace with white men--a peace which some of them observed until the day of their death.
    At Fort Lane, which was then garrisoned by a few companies of regular troops under Capt. Smith, the volunteer relief party hastening down from Jacksonville were reinforced by fifty-five mounted dragoons, under command of the dashing Major Fitzgerald, a beau sabreur [gallant soldier--literally "handsome swordsman"] of the old regime, a man held in due remembrance by many a rollicking soldier or mirth-loving civilian "Fitz" was educated in war, and was a worthy comrade of Phil Kearny, the hero of Chantilly, who also was a major of dragoons and served for a time in Oregon. Guided by John F. Miller, the combined party swept onward and never drew rein until Evans Ferry was reached, where they were told of the death of Isaac Shelton, a Willamette valley man, who, while on his way to Yreka, was shot by the Indians near the ferry while preparing his breakfast. He received four wounds, poor fellow, and lingered twenty hours. From there the ravaging savages, traveling rapidly away from the reservation, had proceeded along the road, butchering whomever they met and burning every house they came to, as they passed through the thinly settled region. Two men driving a wagon loaded with apples were next met with, whom they pursued and killed, one at a distance of a mile and a quarter from the ferry, the other a mile further.
Was a man named Jones, one of the few settlers along the road. He had been shot near his house, and his body was partially eaten by hogs before it was found. His wife, fleeing toward the brush when the attack began, was shot at by an Indian and her spinal column fractured by the bullet. Falling to the ground, the poor creature had dragged herself to cover, but was searched for and found by the bloody miscreants, one of whom presented his revolver and in spite of her prayers shot her again, the second bullet passing through her arm. She fell senseless, and the Indians, doubtless imagining her dead, hastily left. She recovered her senses late in the day and being found was taken to Tuft's place near the river and died, for she lived a day only. O. P. Robbins, Jones' partner, happened to be away from home at the time hunting the cows. He saw the house on fire and heard the yelling of the Indians, and surmising the trouble went to Tuft's place for assistance. The Indians had been before him, however, and had fired the house and wounded Mrs. Tuft, who recovered.
    Trooping in disorder along the road, the savages next attacked two men who were transporting provisions to the mines. Killing them both, they took the horses from the wagon and turned them loose in the woods, where the relief party found them. The harness they piled upon the wagon and set the whole on fire, and it was consumed. Coming next to J. B. Wagoner's place, they found only Mrs. Wagoner with her little girl May at home, several persons having left but a very short time previous. This house they set on fire and barbarously murdered the lady and dragged her child away, a captive, to their bestial abodes.
    The relief party found the body of Mrs. Wagoner lying, charred and almost unrecognizable, amid the ruins of the house. The little girl was taken by the Indians to the Meadows, on lower Rogue River, according to their accounts, but died there some weeks after. According to tradition, Mrs. Wagoner was compelled to remain in her dwelling while it burned, and was last seen by the savages standing before her glass arranging her hair!
    As Fitzgerald's forces came in sight of the scene of the Wagoner tragedy some half-dozen men who were in advance caught a view of the burned domicile, with the corpse of the unfortunate woman, and simultaneously became aware of a number of Indians partly concealed in the brush. Seeing the smallness of the force opposed to them, and not being aware of the regulars' proximity, the insolent murderers shouted a challenge to the whites to come and fight them. At the next instant the military burst into view, and giving the astonished redskins no chance to hide, charged them with the utmost vigor and kept them on the jump for two miles, killing six. Then the party returned to the road and proceeded northward to Haines' house, where lay the corpses of the owner and his little son, the latter's brains dashed out and the body perforated by bullets. Haines, lying sick in bed, attended by his wife and their two children, had been surprised by the savages, who shot him and his son, and taking the wife and her daughter with them, passed on to Harris' house, the next settlement north. What they did here appears in the following:
    As the relief party approached Harris' house, no signs of human occupancy were visible, and an air of desolation lay upon the scene. The outbuildings had been burned, and wreaths of smoke rose slowly from the ruins. Dismounting, some of the party passed within the house. The spectacle that met their eyes was a terrible one. In the room lay the body of the ill-fated owner, pierced by a bullet. The signs of a determined attack and resistance were visible in the bullet-marked doors and walls. Whatever the termination of the contest [was] could not be ascertained, and as the party felt that it would be a waste of time to remain, the order was given to mount and push on. As the cavalcade passed a willow thicket not far from the now-abandoned homestead, a cry was heard, and a woman, begrimed and disheveled, rushed out, leading a wounded child by the hand, and implored the aid of the troops. It was Mrs. Harris who, having with the courage of a lioness, defended her hearth and her family from the attacks of a large party of murderous Indians, had after their withdrawal taken refuge in the willow copse, and there awaited the arrival of succor. When the troops gathered about her house she had watched with anxious eyes, too far off to distinguish whether they were whites sent to relieve or red men bent to complete their horrible work. Her story is one of the most extraordinary in the whole range of frontier narrative, and forms the leading episode of the terrible massacre which is now being recounted. The story of Mrs. Harris has been finely told at great length by Mr. Turner in the Overland Monthly. These details are gathered from the accounts preserved in the recollection of contemporaries.
    In the Harris domicile resided five persons--Mr. and Mrs. Harris, their two children, [Sophia], a girl of twelve, and David, somewhat younger. The fifth was Frank A. Reed, a lame man, partner or employee of Harris. When the first alarm of Indians was given, the latter attempted to escape to the woods, but was pursued and killed. His skeleton was found a year afterward. The boy, David, who was at some distance from the house, was last seen running across a field. Subsequent trace of him was never found, but it is supposed that he was murdered and his body concealed. Mr. Harris was a few rods from the house when the redskins appeared, and in attempting to retreat to its shelter was fired at and mortally wounded as he stood upon the threshold of his own door. His wife drew him into the house and closed and barred the door and, obedient to her husband's advice, brought the firearms--a rifle, double-barreled shotgun and revolver--and loading them, began to return the fire of the miscreants, who remained close to the house. Her husband was dying in agony the while, and of the two children, one, the boy, was she knew not where, but supposed with reason that he had already met the cruel fate which impended over them all. The child [Sophia] had been painfully wounded in the arm, and the terrified sufferer climbed the ladder which led to the attic and there remained for several hours, the mute witness of the, to her, terrible conflict. While the Indians remained in the vicinity--a length of time that Mrs. Harris would never after form an approximation to, owing to her state of mind--they kept beyond reach of danger from her fire, but repeatedly attempted to cast burning brands upon the roof over her head, intending thereby to cremate all that the house contained. In an hour, more or less, the husband and father breathed his last, and his bloody corpse with its wide-staring eyes and the expression of agony into which its features were molded added tenfold to the terrific nature of the surroundings which confronted the poor and despairing woman. Through this scene of horror she kept up such an effective resistance as she was able, discharging her firearms in such directions and at such intervals as served to intimidate the savages, but probably not succeeding in any case in hitting any of them. Unfortunately this poor woman, who was suffering so much from
Was not able to revenge herself effectually upon them, for never having even fired a gun before, and gaining her knowledge even of how to load one by the instructions of her wounded husband, given in the first few minutes of the attack, it was as much as she could do to load and fire, hoping that the show of resistance might, as it did, keep her foes at a distance. She steadily loaded her weapons and discharged them through the crevices of the logs of which the house was built, and the Indians, though numerous, dared not attack the building. They burned the outbuildings, however, first removing the horses from their stables. In the afternoon they decamped, leaving the dauntless woman mistress of the field and the savior of her own and her daughter's life. As soon as she was assured of their departure, she called her daughter down from the loft and with her took refuge in the willow copse, and remained there until the arrival of the relief party, as before said. By them she was removed to a place of safety. The heroism of the Puritan women of new England is matched in the account of Mrs. Harris.
    The relief party went on to Harkness & Twogood's tavern, at Grave Creek, finding there a company of about twenty armed men from Cow Creek, who had been hastily gathered and led to the scene of hostilities by Capt. Jacob S. Rinearson. On the next day they returned to Jacksonville, as the savages had quite disappeared, and the whites who lived in exposed localities had taken refuge in strongholds.
    It happened that on the morning of the 9th Judge Deady, who was returning from holding court at Jacksonville, in company with Dr. J. W. Drew, setting out early on their northward journey, took breakfast at the Wagoner house, a few hours before the arrival of the murderous savages. A Miss Pellet, well known in Oregon at that time as a temperance lecturer, was also at Wagoner's, awaiting a conveyance which was to take her on her way to Crescent City. Judge Deady and his fellow traveler left first, and soon after the lecturer set out for Vannoy's ferry, escorted by Mr. Wagoner. Very soon after their first departure the house was infested, and Mrs. Wagoner, who with her daughter were the sole tenants, fell easy victims to savage brutality. The three travelers escaped narrowly indeed, for so close had been the call that Messrs. Deady and Drew, looking back from the summit of a hill near Grave Creek, saw the smoke of burning buildings, but did not know the cause until overtaken by the news of the dire catastrophe.
    The victims numbered nineteen. The first that fell was Wm. Going, or Goin [also spelled Gwin], a Missourian, who was employed by the government as teamster on the Table Rock Reservation. At 2 o'clock on the fateful morning, while it was yet dark, and before the Indians had left the reservation on their way down the river, this man, in conversation with Clinton Schieffelin in a little house on the reserve, stood, or rather leaned, with his elbow upon the rude mantle of a fireplace, and while in the act of speaking a bullet fired from without the house entered his heart. In the darkness Mr. Schieffelin escaped, and crossing the river to his claim on the south side, found in the morning that the savages had stolen several of his horses, as well as some of his neighbor's, Mr. Birdseye. Poor Schieffelin, who, by the way, gave to the writer a great part of the facts incident in this account, went this year to join that silent majority. Of his sons, two were the lucky discoverers of the Tombstone mines in Arizona, and the invincible explorers of the inner wilds, the terra incognita of Alaska. Another son lives philosophically on a farm in Washington County, not twenty miles from Portland--a worthy citizen, sensibly preferring the quiet of agricultural pursuits to the perils and hardships which had characterized his brothers' lives.
    The following list, which differs somewhat from others published, shows the names of the victims: Wm. Going, Wm. Hamilton, J. B. Powell, James White, Isaac Shelton, ------ Fox, Harris and son, Frank A. Reed, Haines, Mrs. Haines and two children, Mrs. J. B. Wagoner and daughter Mary, Jones and wife, and Bunch. Total, nineteen.
    Dr. Drew stopped on his way north at Turner's, where ten men were gathered, and offered to assist in the defense of the place. This was on the evening of the 9th. The next night he spent on horseback, pursuing his way to the Umpqua Valley to give the alarm and to write and forward a letter to the papers describing the difficulty and asking help from the people of the Willamette Valley. As soon as the facts became known, the inhabitants of Douglas and Umpqua counties felt the greatest consternation and, like those of the Rogue River Valley, "forted up." Some of the old log houses used in that day as forts still may be seen, ruinous indeed, but thrilling mementos of a time of danger. The best-preserved building of the sort which has come under the writer's notice stands in Flournoy Valley, an offshoot of the Lookingglass Valley, west of Roseburg. Its thick walls are loopholed for musketry, its second and highest story overhangs the lower, and its roof, easily accessible from within, could have resisted the efforts of savage besiegers to fire it.
    The first tidings of the calamity which had overtaken the devoted settlers on the beautiful banks of the Rogue were exaggerated in their travel to the Willamette Valley newspapers offices. "Clarenden," writing to his friend Dryer, set the number of slain at thirty-one. Capt. Sheffield, of Cow Creek, one of the first to go to the assistance of the helpless inhabitants of northern Josephine, gave a list of thirty, of whom the names of only half were known. Subsequent investigations have reduced these natural exaggerations to the number given herein. Sheffield spoke of two brothers named Arnett being murdered in Illinois Valley, but of this there is no confirmatory evidence, unless indeed the publication of this article may serve to elicit such.
    Wagoner, the bereaved father and husband, returning from Vannoy's, whither he had conducted Miss Pellet, when he approached his home found it on fire and encircled by howling savages. By them he was not observed and, feeling his inability to cope with them, unarmed as he was, he rushed in the utmost haste toward Evans' ferry, to obtain help to rescue his beloved ones. Reaching the Jones place he saw the owner's dead body, and in the road below lay the murdered travelers. Returning as soon as he could obtain even one man to accompany him, he flew rather than ran to his home, only to find his wife's body smoldering among the ruins and his child gone, he knew not whither.
    The mail carrier had that morning got as far as Wagoner's, where he was joined by two men. A little way beyond, on the way to Evans ferry, they met a band of ten or fifteen Indians, armed and stripped as for war. Getting past these, they met a second band, a few hundred yards or so beyond, when the two bands began howling and firing on them, they being in the middle. The whites had to take to the woods and, making a detour, got back to Wagoner's only to find the house in flames and Indians surrounding it, yelling and dancing. Taking again to the woods, they traveled northward for some time, passing near Harris', where five or six shots were heard and flames were seen arising. Regaining the road where they adjudged it safe they kept on toward the north, giving the alarm and causing the settlers and travelers on that part of the road to seek safety at the Grave Creek House, where no disturbance had occurred. No murders were perpetrated on that day by the Indians on the remaining portion of the road, but all the inhabitants left their homes as far north as the Canyon, and the vacant tenements were mostly burned. Only two or three buildings were left between Evans' ferry and Turner's station, near the northern boundary of Josephine County. At Turner's a number of men stood guard, while all those who could be spared joined Rinearson and Sheffield, and effectually patrolled the dangerous space on the road. The savages came no further north, but plunged into the rough, mountainous country to the west, and secluded themselves from the whites and for a time delayed the vengeance which was destined to fall upon them eventually. Their hiding place was well chosen. It is a country of craggy mountains, of precipices and steep gorges, of impenetrable jungles and baffling thickets. It contains as many mountains as can find room to stand. The streams, which are numerous, icy cold and crystal clear, flow in narrow canyons, leaving the bases of frowning hills. The sun never penetrates to the bottoms of these wild gorges, which are as wild, gloomy and silent today as they were in the times when red and white men began to glut their immortal hates upon each other. How they fared in these noisome solitudes, and how they felt the approach of famine as their natural enemies encircled their haunts, and how desperation animated them to other and yet other deeds, no historian has ever told. But the account of their subjugation may yet be seen in print.

For the Oregonian.
Letter from the South.


Rogue River Correspondence of the Statesman.

    On the 9th inst., an express arrived at Jacksonville bringing information of an attack of the Indians upon the settlers on Rogue River at or below the ferries, and desiring immediate assistance. Accordingly 15 or 20 men immediately left. Another express having been sent to Ft. Lane, Capt. Smith dispatched a detachment of 55 mounted men under the command of Maj. Fitzgerald. The volunteers and regulars joined forces, numbering in all about 85 men. Upon their arrival at the residence of J. B. Wagoner, his house, barns and outbuildings were burned to the ground and the charred remains of Mrs. Wagoner and her child, 4 years old, were found in the ruins. Some five or six of the volunteers being in advance of the main body discovered about 30 of the Indians in the chaparral back of the house, who immediately bantered them for a fight, when the major came up with the main body of his men and charged upon them, killing 6. The Indians fled to the mountains, being well mounted, and were pursued about 2 miles; but from the exhausted condition of the command from the 25 miles march already made, it was found impossible to overtake them. The pursuit was accordingly given up that they might proceed along the road for the protection of travelers and settlers upon it. Arriving at the residence of Geo. W. Harris, which was to appearances deserted, he was found dead within, shot through the breast with a jaeger rifle. Suddenly their attention was directed to Mrs. Harris and her daughter, 11 years of age, rushing from the chaparral near the house to them, blackened with powder and stained with blood. And here we have to report one of the most remarkable instances of female heroism and courage upon record, an account of which should be handed down to posterity as an instance of bravery in woman under the most trying and heart-rending circumstances. I will give the account in Mrs. Harris' own language, as nearly as possible:
    At almost 8 or 9 o'clock of the morning of the 9th of October, 1855, as her husband was engaged in making shingles near the house and she was washing at the back of the house, he suddenly entered with the axe in his hand much alarmed, the house being surrounded by Indians, whose countenances and manner indicated that their intentions were not good. He seized his rifle, but in endeavoring to close the door was fired upon by them, the ball taking effect as before stated. Mechanically he discharged the gun twice at them, as she believes with no effect, and passing across the room fell upon the floor. The daughter in the excitement of the moment rushed out the front door, where she was shot through the right arm between the shoulder and elbow. The husband, reviving, encouraged his wife to bar the doors and load the guns of which there were a rifle, a shotgun and two pistols and revolver and holster pistol. She replied that she never loaded a gun in her life. He then proposed to give them presents to induce them to leave; she replied it would not answer, upon which he instructed her in the manner of loading the guns, and shortly after expired. She now was left entirely dependent upon her own efforts--her husband dead--her daughter severely wounded. Not discouraged, she commenced a vigorous discharge upon the savages, who were endeavoring to fire the house, having already burned the outbuildings. She then continued to defend herself and daughter, she watching at one end of the house and the child at the other, for eight hours, and until about sundown, when the savages, being attracted by a firing on the flats about a mile below the house, left to discover from whence it proceeded. She embraced the opportunity and fled to a small, isolated thicket or chaparral near the house, taking with them only the holster pistol. Having barely secreted themselves before the Indians again approached the house, but finding it abandoned, they commenced scouring the thicket, about 18 in number, all armed with rifles. Upon their close approach she discharged the pistol, which produced a general stampede. This was repeated several times and always with the same result until finally surrounding the thicket they remained till daylight. Her ammunition was now exhausted. She heard the approach of horsemen, at which the Indians became alarmed and concealed themselves in the rear of the thicket. She discovering the horsemen to be whites rushed out towards them, but they had advanced so far beyond that they did not discover her. They were the advance of the volunteers. Concealing herself again with the empty pistol in hand, the main body soon approached, when the savages precipitously fled.
    Mrs. Harris having sent her little son, 10 years of age, to a neighboring house the evening previous, has not since heard from him, but he is supposed to be murdered. Also Frank Reed, the partner of Mr. Harris, is supposed to have been killed.
    This party of Indians escaped to the mountains. The company proceeded as far as Grave Creek, where all was quiet, and it was deemed unnecessary to remain, and they accordingly returned this morning, both men and animals completely exhausted.
    Capt. J. F. Miller takes charge of the volunteers tomorrow, to pursue the Indians, by request of Maj. Fitzgerald and the unanimous desire of the volunteers. He has just returned from Table Rock, at which place was fought a desperate battle at daybreak on the 8th. The Indians were completely routed, leaving 31 of their number on the ground. Of the whites, 12 were wounded, two mortally--Maj. J. A. Lupton and one Mr. Shepherd. Maj. L. was shot with an arrow in the left lung and lingered till 10 o'clock of the same day. His obsequies were celebrated at Jacksonville yesterday.
    A sufficient force cannot possibly be brought into action on account of the great scarcity of arms [and] ammunition. The greatest patriotism is exhibited generally, and all the necessary resources are afforded most cheerfully by the inhabitants, as far as it is in their power to do so.
    Following is the number killed as far as can be learned, and their names in the order in which they were killed. The Indians proceeded directly down the river. The first attacked were at or near Jewett's Ferry, a train loaded with mill irons. Mr. Hamilton was killed, and another, name unknown, wounded in four places. After firing upon Jewett's house, they proceeded to this place, which they reached about daybreak. Here they shot one Isaac Shelton of Willamette, en route for Yreka, who lingering for 20 hours, died this morning, Oct. 10. They next attacked the house of Mr. Jones, who was killed as before stated. From there to Wagoner's, shooting the 4 persons found upon the way, and from thence to Harris'.
    Nos. 3 and 4: The men driving the apple wagon were found about 6 miles from the ferry, in the middle of the road; the first lay some 50 yards from the wagon, and the second about 100 yards from the same--wagon and loading burned; harness cut in pieces. Two of the horses supposed to belong to the wagon were recovered today by the volunteers, one a grey and the other a bay mare. A receipt drawn by Mark Abrams & Co. of Deer Creek is now in my possession and can be obtained at the Jacksonville P.O. of S. H. Taylor. A book was found in possession of one of the Indians, which purported to belong to one Geo. B. Miller. Orders, receipt &c. show him to have been a packer. Whether he was one of the deceased interred here we cannot learn. The book can be obtained at the Jacksonville P.O.
    No. 3: 6 feet in height, tall, spare built, dark complexion, also dark hair, hazel eyes, large, prominent front teeth; deep blue undershirt, a mixed grey outside of it. Tweed pants with black buttons. Stockings with white feet and mixed grey legs--woolen.
    No. 4: Supposed to be a brother of the preceding, also 6 feet in height; description same. Dressed in hickory shirt; mixed satinet coat, red lining, with figures of white. Fish hook and line were found in his pocket.
    The two last individuals are supposed to be from Franklin nursery, Marion Co., O.T., as they were connected with teams freighted with apples, and near them was found a contract signed by one George Suttlemire, in favor of Sam Belshaw, the supposed name of the deceased.
    No. 2: A middle-aged man, 35 or 40 years of age, 6 feet in height, light complexion, dark auburn hair, thick, heavy whiskers and mustache, large blue eyes, deep blue woolen shirt or frock, grey woolen pants with metal buttons. One shoe, no stockings. One wound just above the heart, passing out at the right of [the] backbone. Not recognized, particularly, but supposed to be a Mr. Cooper, of Albany, O.T.
    (The above answers the description of an insane man named Hoag, who has been in Corvallis all summer, and started to the mines about a month ago. It was probably him.)
    No. 1 was found about one mile and a quarter from Evans' ferry, fifty feet from road; was identified as being passed in the canyon on the 4th or 5th of this month; was riding a roan cayuse horse, driving ten or twelve head of beef cattle. Supposed to have been killed about 6 o'clock, a.m., Oct. 9.
    No. 2 was found about two miles and a quarter from Evans' ferry. Evidently belonged to same party. A hat and whip were found about midway between the last two.
    Mr. Jones was found at his residence, about four miles from the ferry, his house burned to the ground, and he nearly devoured by hogs. From appearances his skull was broken, as but a part of it was found. His wife received two wounds at the same time; is now at Illinois Valley, still alive.
    Description of persons found killed upon the road between Evans' ferry and Mr. Wagoner's, and brought in and buried at said ferry Oct. 10, 1855:
    No. 1: A young man, apparently about 25 years of age, 5 feet 10 inches in height, light complexion, sandy whiskers and mustache, blue eyes; dressed in a grey woolen undershirt, with linen bosom and collar, blue worsted and satin vest, figured, dark blue satinet coat, black horn buttons, blue neck handkerchief bordered with white, red and black in stripes, cotton socks, much worn, a buckskin glove upon the right hand, a huge scar upon the inside of right leg, just above the ankle, a small ivory-handled knife, with pipe and tobacco, found in his pockets. Supposed to be -------- Abbott, of Sterling.
    The following persons vouch for the correctness of the given description of the deceased, and were present at their interment:

Lycurgus Jackson,
John F. Miller,
            and 6 others.

    Yours respectfully,
                        J. G. WOODS.
Oregon Statesman, Corvallis, October 20, 1855, page 2    In 1858 B. F. Dowell listed the white casualties of October 9, 1855 as "Mrs. J. B. Wagoner; Mary Wagoner, a little girl; Mr. & Mrs. Jones; Mr. & Mrs. Haines; George W. Harris; David W. Harris; Frank A. Reed, Wm. Gwin, James W. Cartwright, Mr. Powell, Mr. Burch, Mr. Fox & Mr. Hill."




    Editor Statesman--We have received reliable news as far south as Rogue River, and it turns out bad enough. Fifteen men, women and children are known to have been killed on Tuesday last, between Rogue River and this creek. It is feared that all the miners on Galice Creek and mouth of Rogue River have been cut off, as no one has been in from those points.
    A battle was fought at the Buttes by the Jacksonville volunteers, in which 41 Indians were killed, and two of our men killed and nine more wounded. This was on Monday.
    I have heard of two instances of heroism on the part of females that surpasses anything in the history of modern times. On Tuesday morning last, the Indians attacked the house of Mr. Wagoner (no one being at home but Mrs. Wagoner and child) and burned it, with Mr. Wagoner and child, their bones being found in the ashes. Mr. Wagoner had gone to a neighbor's, and thus escaped. They then came on to Mr. Harris', and shot him as he stood in the door, he falling into the house, and they also shot a little girl standing near him in the arm. Mrs. Harris drew her husband into the door--Mr. H. rose to his feet, took his rifle and fired at the Indians twice, killing one and wounding another, and fell dead. She then took the rifle, loaded it, and as an Indian advanced toward the house with his burning torch she fired and he dropped his torch and fled. She continued to load and fire during the day, until she had exhausted her last load of powder, when she was fortunately relieved by the Jacksonville volunteers, who fought the Indians the next morning (Wednesday), killing six and losing one man.
    A Mrs. Belknap showed equally remarkable cool and deliberate bravery. Five Indians went to the house and threatened to kill her and burn the house. She presented one of Colt's revolvers and told them to "klatawa" ["leave"] or she would shoot them all, and they left, and she and the family were saved. The case of Mr. Jones and family is most heart-rending. Mr. Jones was shot dead in his yard. Mrs. Jones was shot through the body; she ran for the brush and was followed by an Indian, who overtook her. She begged for her life, but he insisted on killing her, and as he fired she threw up her arms and the ball struck her elbow and glanced along the bone to the shoulder. She fell, and the Indians, supposing her dead, left her. A few hours after the Jacksonville volunteers came along and carried her to a house, where she died the next morning.
    But the heart sickens at such recitals, and I would not relate them were it not with the hope that they will tend to cure every man, woman and child in Oregon of sympathy for such merciless savages.
    I say now that I never will sanction any more treaties with them. Extermination is my motto, and I trust it will be adopted by every man in Oregon that can pull a trigger. I am now here by accident, but I will remain at the risk of my scalp so long as an Indian is known to be above ground south of the Canyon.
    So far as I have seen, there is a disposition to carry on the war systematically. There has been a promptness and energy of action thus far remarkable in the history of Indian warfare--and I am happy in having had it in my power to aid in securing the safety of the families from Grave Creek to the Canyon. I entered the valley of Cow Creek on Wednesday last, in the morning, and before night we had a company of 35 men enrolled under Capt. Rinearson, who sent a party to Grave Creek that evening, and by Thursday night he had 10 rifles stationed at the mouth of the Canyon, five at Levens', three miles south, five at Turner's, seven miles, six at the Grave Creek house, eighteen miles south, and this morning (Friday) 30 men set out on a scout down Grave Creek and around the mouth of Rogue River, and on Galice Creek. I am here tonight to arrange for rations and forage for the various squads that are scouting in this vicinity, and who will make this a sort of headquarters during the war. I have been appointed quartermaster and commissary for the time being, and shall continue to act until a better man is sent to take my place. So far as I have anything to do with the matter I intend to conform to the army regulation, so that those who furnish supplies shall not be subjected to those long and vexatious delays that have heretofore resulted from want of form and regularity. If this is done generally, as I presume it will be, I feel every assurance that with the aid of our Delegate's influence at Washington, funds will be placed in the hands of the proper disbursing officer for the payment of the entire expenses of the war before the end of six months, and should the war continue that length of time (as I presume it will, owing to the peculiar character of country, our mountains being equal to the hammocks of Florida as places of concealment for the Indians), every man will be paid for his services when disbanded, and every bill paid on presentation that is properly authenticated.
    Messrs. Twogood & Harkness, of this place (Grave Creek), Mr. Turner, Mr. Levens and Mr. Elliff, of South Cow Creek Valley, have very readily placed everything they have that is needed at my disposal--but many of the volunteers are entirely destitute of blankets and other necessaries not to be had short of Jacksonville, if there, and some 12 or 15 of Capt. Rinearson's company have no other arms than common pistols and Colt's revolvers.
    If two or three men can be spared from here, in the morning I shall go to Jacksonville and Fort Lane and procure those things if to be had.
    It is to be hoped the Governor will lose no time in sending through the Canyon not only provisions and arms, but blankets and other necessary camp equipage, and some thousand volunteers.
    There should be at least two thousand men in the valley well armed and equipped, with as little delay as possible. The Indians will soon scatter and hide away. The first snow that falls we should be prepared for a thorough scouring of the whole country from the tops of the Cascade Range to the coast. If this is not done, there will be no security for life or property south of the Canyon. No reasonable man can say this is more men than is necessary for the service, considering the forces that have been called into the field under far less pressing emergencies. When the celebrated Black Hawk chief, with his three hundred warriors, ONLY, was roaming over the open prairie country of northern Illinois and Wisconsin, more than three thousand men were brought into the field, with Major General Scott at their head. Five thousand would be a less force here, considering the natural difficulties to be overcome. Some wise men now seem to think that the citizens of Jackson County should not only furnish all the men needed, but all the supplies, and wait for their pay until the interest is worth more than the debt. The men now under arms in the valley (not over 150, all told) would scalp every Indian south of the Canyon in two hours if they could get them out from their hiding places. We want the 1860 more men to hunt them up for us, or in western phrase, "to corral them."
    I have spun out this letter to a greater length than I intended, but I trust the interest felt in the valley in what is going on here will excuse its length. I send it to the Statesman because it is the nearest paper, and not because I like it better than the Argus or Oregonian. Thank God, nothing is said or thought here of Whig, Democrat or Know Nothing, and will not be until the war is over, and then we will quarrel as usual if you please, but until the Indians in this valley are "wiped out," I hope the same unity of sentiment and concert of action will characterize the valley of the Willamette that now exists here.
    I shall be very much disappointed if Congress don't grant the heroine, Mrs. Harris, a handsome pension within 24 hours after the news reaches Washington. If they don't, the people of Oregon will.
    I open this to say that I learn from the messenger to Gen. Palmer, just in from the Fort, and now here (Evans ferry), that no depredations have yet been committed south of here. He can give you the particulars.
Oregon Statesman, Corvallis, October 20, 1855, page 2


Major
    I have the honor  to report the following facts for the further information of the Commanding General.
    During the summer and fall, ill-disposed whites have been threatening the Indians that belong to this Reserve to commence a war of extermination upon them this fall, and many Indians have questioned me on the subject and wanted to know what they had done to incur the displeasure of the whites. I have invariably told them to pay no attention to what such men would tell them, that they were bad men and would not carry their threats into execution, but when the simultaneous attack was made on three camps on the morning of the 8th the Indians must have been confirmed, in their own minds, that it was the intention of the whites to make good their threats.
    As soon as the Indians, Old John's band, on the lower part of the Reserve, and George's band (then encamped on a creek near Mr. Wagner's house) heard of the massacre that had been committed by the whites in the vicinity of this post, they commenced killing unsuspecting whites, burning houses and destroying everything that lay in their course.
    On Tuesday morning the 9th they killed nine men, three women and burned three houses, in one of which the wife and daughter of the proprietor perished in the flames.
    The Indian agent and myself were on the Reserve in council with chiefs Sam & Elijah when an Indian runner arrived bringing the news of the outbreak below.
    Immediately on my return I ordered Bvt. Maj. Fitzgerald with fifty men of his compy. to proceed, in haste, to the scene of the calamity to protect the settlers and punish the murderers when found.
    As the Major approached Mr. Wagner's house (in which the wife & daughter perished) he discovered several Indians, mounted, whom he pursued and succeeded in killing five of them.
    All we can do yet for a few days will be to furnish protection to the settlers most exposed or until they can arm themselves and get together for mutual protection.
    There are but few arms of any description in the hands of the settlers, and I shall have to provide them with such of my old musketoons as I can spare.
    A large majority of the Indians are well armed with good rifles of different descriptions procured through their squaws from a reckless class of whites that infest this region.
    On the 11th inst. I sent Lt. Sweitzer with a detachment of my company to escort in the train of arms & ammunition supposed to be on its way up from Crescent city; he met the train at Deer Creek and has just arrived with it at this post.
    The accoutrements did not come, also one box of the arms.
    Chiefs Sam, Elijah & Sambo, with upwards of 300 of their men, women & children, are now at this post, under our protection, and will take no part in the war.
    Chiefs John, Limpy & George with all their people are proscribed.
    I enclose you a rough sketch of the seat of war; you see we have a very mountainous country to operate in.
Maj. E. D. Townsend
    Asst. Adjt. General
        Benicia
            California

New York Daily Tribune, November 14, 1855, page 6   The writer is Sarah Pellet.


Shasta Courier, Shasta, California, October 27, 1855, page 3

    The Yreka Union of the 13th, contains the following melancholy intelligence. On Tuesday morning, 9th inst., a large party of Indians collected and started down Rogue River, killing every white man who happened to fall in their way. At Evans Ferry they found two or three men whom they murdered, and then left the river for Wagoner's on Louse Creek. Just before they reached W.'s they were met by a party of packers with a large train, who saw from their appearance that there was something wrong with them. Presently the packers looked back and saw Wagoner's barn on fire, and heard the screams of women and children in the house; they then cut loose their packs and ran for their lives--the Indians pursued them closely, killing one of the mules.
    They counted in their flight the bodies of seventeen white men who had been murdered along the road. Many of these were teamsters, and their loads had been scattered in every direction by the Indians, in searching for ammunition and liquor. From Wagoner's it appears that the Indians, now nearly all drunk, again started down Rogue River, burning and murdering as they went. On Wednesday they were overtaken by Major Fitzgerald with eighty men and a battle fought, in which thirty Indians and ten soldiers were reported to have been killed.
    Mrs. Wagoner and child were murdered, and five other families along the route pursued by the Indians are said to have shared the same fate. The whole number of whites who have already fallen, from the best accounts, is between 30 and 50.
    The Union also contains accounts of another outrage perpetrated by the Rogue River Indians. The party robbed and murdered are Messrs. Wilson & Hudson, of Hamburg Bar, a hired man and family, whom they were taking up to open a hotel or boarding house. A Mr. Riley, as he was passing over the summit of the Siskiyou, on the Klamath trail, discovered signs of a conflict, and subsequent search has confirmed the worst fears. Arrows have been found strewn around in every direction, the ground in many places was stained by blood, and on pursuing the trail made by the marauding party, clothes of men, women and children, and finally the body of a murdered man, was discovered. A mule also had been killed; the remainder of the train, ten or twelve mules, are now in the hands of the robbers. A pursuing party saw the fires of the Indians on Monday night. A letter from P. H. Hulin, on Indian Creek, fully confirms the above.
The Weekly Sun, New York City, November 17, 1855, page 2



    The Indians at the Meadows, in Rogue River, report the death of the three captive white women they took at the outbreak of hostilities. Two of them died of disease, and the third was killed to avenge the death of a squaw they had heard had fallen at the hands of the whites. The poor creatures are sleeping where "the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest." Better a thousand times be dead than exposed to the mercy of the savages. We shall always think that Oregon is disgraced and ought to suffer punishment for permitting those women to remain, suffer, and die among the Indians, without making greater efforts to rescue them.
Oregon Argus, Oregon City, March 15, 1856, page 2


    In Southern Oregon the Indians are stronger and more bold. In relation to the unfortunate women lately taken prisoners, the following has been learned: Mrs. Wagoner was killed at her residence. The Indians carried away her child, five years old. Mrs. Haines and child they kept some two or three weeks, and they died. They seemed desirous of keeping Mrs. Wagoner's child, but upon learning that the soldiers had taken two squaws, they massacred the child, also a half-breed of their own. 
"From Oregon," Los Angeles Star, March 22, 1856, page 2

    On the 9th day of October, 1855--midnight--George Anderson rode into Jacksonville at a breakneck pace. He awakened up the people generally and imparted the news that the Indians were on the warpath and had massacred all the settlers on Rogue River from what was then known as Jewett's Ferry to Grave Creek. That a pack train with full cargo passed Wagoner's that afternoon and was attacked by the Indians. The packers, however, got their mules in hand, cut their cargo off and ran the gantlet safely from Louse Creek to Evans' Ferry on Rogue River; they lost all their cargo and one mule. These people reported that Wagoners, on Louse Creek, had not, up to their passing, been molested. G. Anderson called for volunteers to rescue Mrs. Wagoner and her daughter, a child about five years old. This was the incentive for one of the grandest rides made during that or any other Indian war. Fourteen mounted men responded to the call and were in the saddle en route inside of one hour after Anderson's alarm. This band of patriots were: John McLaughlin, A. J. Long, Charles Williams, Claus Westfeldt, James R. Peters, Wm. Morrison, John Tinnin, Joseph Copeland, George Anderson, Dr. C. Brooke, Angus Brown, Wm. Ballard, Jack Kennedy and Henry Klippel.
    We were not encumbered with blankets or provisions. The writer had to borrow a rifle and ammunition from the late Mrs. Jane McCully, who in after years often mentioned the circumstance. We rode the 28 miles before daylight, and found Major Fitzgerald with a company of dragoons from Ft. Lane, about ¾ of a mile this side of Wagoner's. His troop was dismounted, but ready to mount when ordered. We remained with the major about 20 minutes then forged on. The regulars were also in motion--with the order "Forward!" When we arrived on the ground we found the premises all burnt down. Mr. Wagoner, having safely piloted Miss Pellet [temperance lecturer Sarah Pellet] to her destination, returned to find that the Indians were on the rampage; he witnessed the burning of his house and buildings, but still did not realize fully that the savages would murder his wife and child. His last hope was, however, to be shattered. On our arrival we found the fires had burnt out, and on examination found the charred remains of Mrs. Wagoner lying across the stone hearth of the large fireplace, and also the charred remains of the little girl about ten feet off; the Indians had murdered them and then set fire to the house. Major Fitzgerald ordered some of his troopers to collect the remains and improvise a temporary vault out of brick that had been part of the chimney. Whilst this was being done Jack Long had mounted his horse and made a reconnaissance of the immediate vicinity. He gave one of those peculiar yells, which all understood--Indians! In less time than it takes to write it every volunteer was in the saddle and going to Jack Long, who by this time had gained the main traveled road leading to Jumpoff Joe. Riding up, we asked, "Where are they?" to which he answered: "They have gone into that brush (a patch of about 2 acres on the N.W. side of the road) and were on horseback." We put spur to our animals and went around the brush to head them off; we got on the north side with all the speed that was left in our jaded horses; about this time we were greeted with an Indian yell, and on looking found a band of Indians in line ready for battle. We were going so fast that I don't think we had any time to fully weigh the situation; at any rate there was no wavering. George Anderson, as brave a man as as ever lived, checked his horse for a second to shout, but the shout was "Don't stop!" nor we didn't stop. The Indians couldn't stand it any longer, broke their line and started to seek safety in flight. Seven Indians were killed, balance got away. After three or four hours' chase we returned to [the] brush patch, found a ½ barrel of whisky and an ox killed for the occasion. The Indians had undoubtedly arranged for a good time, and it was generally believed by Major Fitzgerald and others that the Indians outgeneraled us. They ran away from the place--we after them. Result was, the Indians who were in that brush patch--probably full of firewater--had time to sober up and skedaddle. When we got back and we were tired, dry and hungry, Fitzgerald lined up his troop and allowed them to take one small cup of the ardent and no more. The troopers, who were supplied with some rations of bread and meat, divided with the volunteers. They were all good soldiers, and their horses were comparatively fresh, which made them effective during the chase of the Indians. After all had partaken of the firewater we headed towards Mr. Harris' place, a few miles north of Wagoner's. We were riding along slowly, feeling about as tired as possible for men to get, when we discovered two horsemen coming toward us at full speed, each with a woman behind him. The horsemen proved to be Claus Westfeldt and Charles Williams; the women Mrs. Harris and her daughter Sophia, the latter wounded in [the] fleshy part of [her] arm, between the elbow and shoulder. The sight of these heroic women made us forget that we had been in the saddle 12 hours or fatigued or hungry.
    Westfeldt and Williams[, who had ridden] in advance of [the] main column, found Mrs. Harris and daughter hidden in the willows and took them up on their horses. Mrs. Harris, after 36 hours' vigil and self-reliance, finding rescue an accomplished fact and after telling our boys that the Indians were at the house, then asked to be taken to a place of safety. As soon as they came up to our lines and reported the situation all of the volunteers and part of the regulars rode on to the house and surrounded it. The writer rode up to near the front door, jumped off his mule and pushed the front door open with the muzzle of his gun, and instead of Indians, saw Mr. Harris lying dead on the floor. We investigated further but found no Indians. Some of our men, who were in pursuit of the Indians, had to or did pass the house, stopped for a moment to inspect the premises and then continued to widow Niday's place. Mrs. Harris undoubtedly mistook them for Indians. The History of the Pacific Northwest has given some data of the Indian raid on Rogue River in 1855, and mentions "Levi Knott, A. J. Knott, John Ladd, J. D. Burnett, John Hulse and Alex McKay" as being present at Wagoner's on that eventful October morning. I distinctly remember Levi and Jack Knott, John Ladd, Burnett and McKay. These were interested in the pack train which ran the gantlet the afternoon previous and who returned with Major Fitzgerald. The major arrived near the Wagoner premises between 2 and 3 o'clock in the morning. Our men--the Jacksonville contingent--reached Fitzgerald's position at very early dawn, and remained but a very few minutes as heretofore stated.
Henry Klippel, as dictated to Mabel Prim, photocopy of manuscript in Rogue River Indian War vertical file, Southern Oregon Historical Society. Original in SOHS M35B, Box 5. Written sometime after the 1899 death of Jane McCully. Published in the Medford Enquirer of February 2, 1901, page 4

    The Rogue River Indians again opened hostilities on the 10th day of October A.D. 1855.
    They first turned themselves loose that morning at Louse Creek, Wagoner's place--12 miles south of Grave Creek House--by capturing Robt. & John Ladd's pack train, loaded with groceries, provisions & liquors. From that time started the most unprovoked scene of brutal carnage that it was ever my lot to witness--they commenced murdering, pillaging and burning everything they came to--Wagoner was [away] from home. The red devils went to the house--Mrs. W. barricaded the doors. She was personally acquainted with nearly all, had fed & sheltered and clothed many of them--they told her to come out--she must go with them. She said no--they then told her if she did not come out they would fire the house. She knew they meant it--and said no no. The red fiends then applied the torch to her home. She went to the looking glass, smoothed out her hair, took her six-year-old daughter on her lap, and perished in the flames.
    The Jones family, a few miles south, was murdered and place burned. The Harris family, 3 miles north--the father and son murdered--the mother & daughter barely escaped by freely using an Allen revolver I had given them. The Haines family, consisting of the parents and 4 children--I was the first person there after the brutal fiends had done their work. The mother and daughter were taken prisoners and never heard from afterwards. I never will forget the scene that greeted my sight as I entered that cabin--not one left to tell the dreadful tale--the son had the whole top of his head took off; father had bullet hole in his breast.
James H. Twogood Papers, Newberry Library.




    [John W. Noah] was one of the troop who rescued the Harris family, when this family was surrounded by Indians. They were making a gallant defense at the time of the rescue. Mr. Harris, though wounded, was able to handle a rifle, and Mrs. Harris loaded the guns and helped to hold the savages at bay until assistance arrived. He also helped rescue the Niday family, who had a narrow escape from being massacred by the Indians. Mrs. Nellie Owen, of Marshfield, who was a child at the time, was a member of the Niday family.
"Death of John W. Noah," The Plaindealer, Roseburg, December 30, 1901, page 1


Medford Mail Tribune, November 23, 1930, page B1  Alice Hanley's account, the basis for this article, can be found here.