from the school for our dinner and in the kitchen the Doctor had five sheep, warming them up. He had rescued them from the water, but Mrs. Whitman was very indignant that he had turned the kitchen into a sheep pen.

In November of 1847 many immigrants had gathered at the Mission, intending to winter there. Measles had broken out among them and many of the Indians had also become victims of this disease and the Doctor was very busy attending them all. On the 27th of the month, Mr. Spalding, who had come to the Whitman mission on business, went with Dr. Whitman to visit the sick at Umatilla and to remain over night. The Doctor was very worried because there were so many sick at his Mission, having ten of his own family down and Mrs. Whitman much alarmed about the children. Some of them were very low—especially my sister Louise and Helen Marr Meek. Leaving Mr. Spalding at Umatilla, the Doctor started for home, meeting Frank Sager on the way, who had been sent by Mrs. Whitman to ask him to return at once because of the critical condition of some of the family. After reaching home, he told the boys to go to bed and he would sit up and look after the sick. So all went upstairs to bed and to sleep, little dreaming of the march of events that would blot out splendidly useful lives on the morrow and leave the girls of the Sager family again without protectors.

FourteenTHE MASSACRE

The morning of the 29th of November, 1847, was a dark, dreary day. When I came downstairs I went into the kitchen where Dr. Whitman was sitting by the cookstove broiling steak for breakfast. I went and put my arms around his neck and kissed him and said, "Good morning, father," as we were taught to greet older persons with all politeness; also to say "Good night" to all as we retired. I continued, "I have had such a bad dream and I woke frightened."

He said, "What was it?"

"I dreamed that the Indians killed you and a lot of others."

He replied, "That was a bad dream, but I hope it will not occur."

The rest of the family who were able came to the table and we had breakfast; there was to be an Indian funeral later and the Doctor was to conduct it; so we separated and went to our various employments. Many of our family were sick. Those able to attend school were my brother Frank and myself, the two sons of Mr. Manson, a Hudson's Bay man, who were boarding with the Whitmans for the winter in order to attend the Mission school; Eliza Spalding, daughter of the Rev. H. H. Spalding, having arrived with her father a few days before; David Malin, a half breed. 'Liza was to remain for the winter. There were eight members of our family not well enough to attend school that morning, and most of the children of the immigrant families wintering there were unable to attend. I can recall only a few of these children besides those of our own family that were at school that morning, it being Monday and the first day of the term. School had not been in session before that, on account of so much sickness.

At nine o'clock we went to the schoolroom. Mr. Sanders was the teacher. Joe Stansfield went out that morning to drive in a beef animal from the range to be killed and brother Frank was the one to shoot it down. That made him late for school and when he came in school had been in session perhaps half an hour. When the hour for the forenoon recess had come, the girls had theirs first and we went over to the Doctor's kitchen. My brother John, who was just recovering from a severe case of measles, was sitting there with a skein of brown twine around his knees, winding it into a ball for there were brooms to be made soon. We all got a drink of water. John asked me to bring him some and after he had drank, said, "Won't you hold the twine for me?"

I replied, "'Tis only recess, but I will hold it at noon." The bell called us then, so we returned to the schoolroom and the boys were given their recess. The beef was being dressed in the meadow grass, northeast and not far from the school house. Three or four white men were at work and a lot of Indians were gathered around with their blankets closely wrapped about them and it is supposed that they had their guns and tomahawks under them. The boys went to where the beef was being dressed; in a short time we heard guns and the boys came running in and said the Indians were killing the men at the beef. Mr. Sanders opened the door and we looked out. We saw Mr. Rogers run from the river to the Mission house and Mr. Kimball running with his sleeves rolled up and his arms all bloody; he ran around the end of the house to the east door and Mrs. Whitman let him in. Mr. Hoffman was fighting with an Indian, swinging an ax; he was at the beef. Mr. Sanders ran down the steps, probably thinking of his family, but was seized by two Indians; he broke away from them and started for the immigrant house where his family were. One Indian on horseback and two on foot ran after him and overtook him just as he reached the fence to cross it; they killed him and cut his head off and the next day I saw him lying there with his head severed. Mrs. Whitman stood at a door which had a sash window, looking at the attack on Mr. Sanders. Mr. Rogers came to the door and she let him in; his arm was broken at the wrist.

Mary Ann Bridger was the only eye-witness of the attack on Dr. Whitman and John Sager, which had occurred just before the attack on the men at the beef. She ran out of the kitchen door and around the house and got into the room where Mrs. Whitman and the rest of the family were and cried, "Oh, the Indians are killing father and John!" It seems that after attending the Indian funeral, the Doctor returned to his home, where, soon after, some Indians came into the kitchen and as Dr. Whitman started to go from the living room to the kitchen he said to his wife, "Lock the door after me," which she did. In the course of conversation regarding the condition of the sick Indian, one of those in the kitchen slipped up behind the good man, drew a tomahawk from under his blanket and sank it into the Doctor's skull. Others attacked John Sager. Their dastardly deed accomplished, they left the room, not paying any attention to the fact that the little half-breed girl had run out; then they joined those around the beef and the general attack immediately began. The Doctor was not instantly killed. Mrs. Hays, Mrs. Hall and Mrs. Sanders came running to the Mission house for protection and Mrs. Whitman and Mrs. Hall unbolted the door, went into the kitchen and brought the wounded man into the living room and laid him on the floor, putting a pillow under his head. Mrs. Whitman got a towel and some ashes from the stove and tried to staunch the blood. He lingered but a short time, for the blow of his treacherous adversary had been sure and deadly. Mrs. Whitman went to the sash door and looked out to see what had become of those around the beef. She stood there watching, when Frank Iskalome, a full blooded Indian, shot her in the left breast, through the glass. Sister Elizabeth was standing beside her and heard her exclaim, "I am wounded; hold me tight." The women took hold of her and placed her in a chair; then she began to pray that "God would save her children that soon were to be orphaned and that her dear mother would be given strength to bear the news of her death."

Finally Mr. Rogers suggested that they all go up stairs for safety. The only weapon of defense they had was an old, broken gun; but when the Indians would start to come up, as they did after a time, some one of them would point it over the stairs, and the Indians were afraid to face it. Miss Bewley and her brother had staid behind their family, to winter at the Mission. She was sick and the Doctor thought he could treat and help her; she would not consent to remain unless her brother staid also; he was lying in bed in a little