Siskiyou Union High School - White and Gold Yearbook (Weed, CA)

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'XVhile the warriors were showing off and boasting of how they had killed some of the Scott Valley tribe, Jennie sat down under a tree to rest, but was closely guarded. Tamdoka was showing Longfellow how he had shot the other girl in the knee. In doing so he let the arrow Hy, killing the chief, Long- fellow. He made it appear accidental, but down in his heart he knew when Longfellow was dead he would become chief. Jennie was very tired, but she could not sleep. She would hear the coy- otes howl near by, in the distance the hoot of an owl resounded and beneath her white-footed mice scurried among the dried leaves. VVhen morning came an Indian runner was sent on ahead to their home camp in Shovel Creek to have men come to help carry Longfellow's body in. His body was carried on poles fastened together by hazel brush, and two men started carrying him homeward. Jennie was so weak and weary she could hardly push her way ahead. The trail seemed to be so steep. Often she would look up at the sun. She thought it should be setting soon, but no, it still rode high overhead. Her. clothes and face were caked with dust while her head was whirling. No matter which way she looked, sheilsaw no friendliness, but the cruel faces of her captors. At sun down the tribe found its way into Shovel Creek. Here they told the anxious squaws and tribesmen of L0ngfellow's accidental death and also handed Jennie over to the care of the squaws. Jennie was taken into one of the tepees. One of the squaws took her down to a stream to bathe her tired limbs and face. She went back to the tepee and fell asleep immediately. The next morning when she awoke she heard a terrible rumpus. One of the Indian girls told her that during the night a grizzly bear had sprung upon the chief, Tamdoka, and broken his neck. She put her weary head on her knees and listened to the strange tumult and watched the tribesmen, who showed no sign of friendliness, no curiosity, but came and went with an aloof attitude. I The new chief made her a slave and she had to carry wood to each tepee in the village every day. She did this, but her eyes showed that she was in great distress. The Modoc's village was located in a canyon. Through it Howed a little stream abounding with fish. The lodge was set in a wide circle and a great herd of horses grazed upon the nearby meadow. The lodge poles were covered tightly with stretched hides and on these were painted pictures of deer, beaver, hunting scenes and war parties. Some of the colors were scarlet, orange and yellow. In front of the doors hung the Indians' gaily colored feather head- dress which swung in the breeze. Month after month Jennie went through her work under close guard. She became friends with an Indian squaw and a maiden. The squaw was old and wrinkled and as dry as a dead leaf. She smiled a wide toothless smile every time Jennie came to her tepee. The squaw and the maiden would talk with Jennie. They knew that she was longing to go back to her people. Jennie would sit with her chin in her hands and her elbows on her knees staring through the canyon and she would be so absorbed in the thought of finding a way to escape that she seemed to regard nothing else going on about her. Even when the panthers and bears came into the village killing the papooses and maidens, Jennie did not give up the thought of escaping some dav. She was at the Modoc village for one year. She was not the only one plan- ning her escape. The squaw and the maiden also watched for many days for I 20 I GENERAL LITERARY SECTION

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SCOTT VALLEY'S INDIAN MAID Third Price Story IGHTY-FOUR years have passed since the tepees of the Scott Valley Indian tribe were on the banks of Scott River, eighty-four years since Jennie laughed and sang with the other Indian maidens. She was a young growing girl with large dark eyes and tumbling black hair that fell in two braids to her waist. She was as fleet as the wind and as gay as the robin. She lived with her uncle Jackson, the old Medicine Man. Here she was very happy, giving no thought of the morrow. She was the pride of his tepee. One evening late in autumn, as the sun was lowering in the heavens and the twilight began to fall, Jackson, a very religious old brave and handsome Indian chief, stood straight as a statue and many times he was seen with his head bowed in prayer to the Great Spirit. Often after this demonstration he left his tepee and galloped over the ridge toward the North, not to be back until the morning. f' His lodge was left in stillness. Everything seemed to be in peace, even the smoke rolled up into the sky and became a part of the atmosphere. Just as dawn was breaking, the silence was broken by a hideous war-whoop. The Modoc Indians swooped down upon this sleeping tribe, led by their Indian chief, Longfellow. Longfellow was middle-aged, with a strong deeply-lined face expressing meanness. He wore a feather war bonnet reaching from the crown of his head to his feet. He had planned this attack to be at sun up be- cause the Indian custom is to rise early. The sleeping world before them woke to startled life. The black figures came pouring down upon the little lodge. Then in a moment there arose above everything a terrible sound dropping from the hill, echoing along the river bank. Tamdoka, tip-toeing into Jack- son's tepee, glancing cruelly about, noticed this beautiful Indian maiden sleep- ing on a pile of deer hides. He picked her up and rushed out, while the other protesting maiden tried to stop him. Jackson's daughter was shot above the knee. As quietly as they had descended upon the lodge, they disappeared, as if into space. As Jackson returned home, he found his people in great confusion. The fires were blazing up. The excited voices of the women came to him in sur- prise. He could see that his lodge had been attacked. He found his daughter killed by an arrow wound inflicted above the knee. Going further he found the bodies of two old Indians and a girl. But Jennie, his niece, could not be found. As he ascended the hill, following his enemies' tracks, he saw before him some dry sticks standing up with a Hr tassel attached to the top. This was a sign that a young girl was captured. Jackson took the sign into his tepee and fell down upon the deer hides and cried. This old Indian's heart was broken. He could not see why they had attacked them because he knew there was no reason, other than a trick. He searched days and days for Jennie, but he could not find her. Jackson prophesied that Longfellow would be killed for his treachery. Siskiyou County at that time was a wild, wooded forest. The Indian trails approximated the roads of today. Jennie knew she was taken as a slave, so did not try to make an escape because she knew they would kill her. They made her Walk, carrying a heay load on her back. As she went along she noticed the colors that nature paints the trees in the autumn. Their first stop was at the foot of the Yreka mountain, at the spring, above where the Forest House is now located. GENERAL LITERARY SECTION I 19 l

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a chance for her to get away. They made her a new pair of moccasins to make the trip. One afternoon the squaw sang the Indian song of prayer, Now Be Still All Of You. After awhile Jennie looked up through eyes drenched with tears into the face of the squaw. Then as if drawn by an irresistible impulse, she turned her head and looked toward her home. That evening when Jennie, the squaw and Sunbeam Went on the hill to make medicine the squaw told Jennie to sing that song, Now Be Still All Of You as loud as she could. Her sweet child's voice touched the heart of every one. VVhen they went back every one was in his tepee. She saw her chance to Hee her bondsg the squavv and Sun- beam encouraged her. Stealthily she made her way to the creek, dodging between trees and stumps, and always careful not to make any unnecessary noise. Throughout the night she followed the creek in this manner. At day break she heard the beat of horses' hoofs. She knew she was being followed, so she slumped under a pile of drift wood, hiding herself-her feet were in the water. She crept so far back that she could see only a small speck of light. In this cramped posi- tion she stayed all day. 'Vlfhile here she heard the Modocs' walk over her. Her heart thumped against her side and she held her breath until her lungs seemed to break. At nightfall Jennie again started on her perilous trip homeward. In her dripping clothes she ventured forth, walking with a quick but ever-cautious step. Often she would look toward the horizon and see only a sprinkle of stars, a chilly wind was blowing. Despite her weariness she kept on her eager pil- grimage. Jennie was determined to get home. Nothing would turn her back. Climbing a high mountain she decided to go no further, for the sky was already taking on a pink hue and stars were fading. She knew it would soon be dawn. Luckily, she stayed. When she did peer down to the valley toward Montague, she saw three mounted ponies, two Indians walking and two more riding toward her country. They were so far away that the horses looked like jack rabbits. During the early morning hours she slyly passed from Butcher Hill Mountain, through Hawkinsville, on to the mountain back of Yreka. The maiden was so exhausted that she lay down on a dry log in the sun, falling to sleep instantly. She woke up at evening feeling much refreshed in the cool air. She was happy that no one had chanced her way. Although she had never been over this ground before, she seemed by in- stinct to find her way toward her friends. She came down to the mouth of Creek Canyon and as quick as a Hash, with her hair and dress Howing behind her, she dashed across this opening. -Now she was near the trodden trail but did not follow it. . She went up to the Big Rock between Pereria's and McCadam's Creek. She stayed there all day. When crossing the low gap back of Mathew's she was overtaken by a mounted Indian. She could see the figure coming upright among the bushes and moving up the slope. making no sound but the pony's hoofs on the well beaten trail. The tall warrior crossed a patch of moonlight so Jennie could see the bright feathers of his head-dress and the curve of his brow. She could tell he was a Modoc because she saw his garments were cut differently from those of the Scott Valley tribe. Through her mind flashed many thoughts. Should she try to escape, should she fall on her hands and knees and crawl? If only there was something to hide behind. She turned- there was one lone pine. Like a dart she leaped across the trail and squeezed up closely to the tree. Silently, with that horrible fear gripping her heart she GENERAL LITERARY SECTION l2l I