tnomah, whose daughter he was to marry and whom he
was to succeed as war-chief.

The women were in advance, driving the pack-horses; Cecil rode behind
them with the Shoshone renegade and the young Willamette runner;
while Snoqualmie brought up the rear, looking sharply after
stragglers,--for some of his young men were very much inclined to
linger at the rendezvous and indulge in a little gambling and
horse-racing with the other bands, who were not to start till later in
the day.

The young Willamette still rode the pretty little pony whose ears and
tail he had so barbarously mutilated. It reeled under him from sheer
weakness, so young was it and so worn by the journey of the day
before. In vain did Cecil expostulate. With true Indian obtuseness and
brutality, the Willamette refused to see why he should be merciful to
a horse.

"Suppose he rode me, what would _he_ care? Now I ride him, what do I
care? Suppose he die, plenty more _hiagua_ shells, plenty more
horses."

After which logical answer he plied the whip harder than ever, making
the pony keep up with the stronger and abler horses of the other
riders. The long train of squaws and warriors wound on down the trail
by the river-side. In a little while Wishram and Tumwater passed from
sight. The wind began to blow; the ever drifting sand of the Columbia
came sifting in their faces. They passed the Dalles of the Columbia;
and the river that, as seen from the heights the evening before, wound
like a silver thread among the rocks, was found to be a compressed
torrent that rushed foaming along the narrow passage,--literally, as
it has been described, "a river turned on edge."

There too they passed the camp of the Wascos, who were preparing to
start, but suspended their preparations at the approach of the
cavalcade and stood along the path eager to see the white man. Cecil
noticed that as they descended the river the language of the local
tribes became more gutteral, and the custom of flattening the head
prevailed more and more.[9]

Below, the scenery was less barren; the river entered the Cascade
Range, and the steep banks, along which wound the trail, grew dark
with pines, relieved here and there with brighter verdure. They saw
bands of Indians on the opposite shore, descending the trail along
that side on the way to the council. Many were on foot, though some
horses were among them. They were Indians of the nine tribes of the
Klickitat, and as yet had but few h