the good pleasure of the Court.

"Why, man, have you not heard the news?" replied the Judge.

"I have heard no news," I replied, but seeing that the Judge was in
earnest asked to what news he referred.

Judge McArthur then told me in a few excited words of the outbreak of
the Bannocks, declaring that in all probability the Indians would reach
my section before I could get there.

I waited to hear no more, and running across the street to the livery
stable ordered my team harnessed. While I was waiting three young men,
one of them being a lawyer named G. W. Barnes, and with whom I had come
to The Dalles in a two-seated rig, came up. While the team was being
harnessed we secured from a store several hundred rounds of Winchester
ammunition, besides a couple of needle guns and some ammunition which we
borrowed. One of my friends ran across to the hotel and returned with
some provisions for breakfast. We had no time to wait. Other thoughts
occupied our minds. We then began the home run, ninety-six miles away. I
insisted on driving and nursed the team as best I could, giving them
plenty of time on the uphill grade, but sending them along at a furious
pate on level ground and down hill. From The Dalles to Shear's bridge on
the Deschutes we made a record run. There we changed horses, the
generous owner returning not a word when our urgent errand was told.
Mrs. Shear also kindly gave us some food to eat on the road. By 1
o'clock we were at Bakeoven, 45 miles from The Dalles. Here we again
changed horses, and secured some food, which we literally ate on the
run.

Our next lap was a long one and it was necessary to save our horses as
much as possible. But we had a good team and made good progress, and
when night closed in we were more than 25 miles from home. We finally
reached the ranch of old man Crisp, whose son was most savagely
butchered a few days later by the Indians at Fox Valley.

My ranch was reached about midnight, possibly a little later, and I
found, to my inexpressible relief, that all was well. My wife hastily
prepared a cup of coffee for my companions and set them a lunch. While
they were eating the young men harnessed up another team, with which Mr.
Barnes and companions reached Prineville some time after daylight.

Almost the first word spoken by my wife to me after I had asked the
news, was that Capt. George, Chief of the Warm Spring Indians, had been
there and enquiring for me. I asked her where he had