But there is no blame to be attachd to any for neglecting to arm ourselves. The doctor had not a load of ammunition in his house,—the immigrants living at the station had ammunition, and I think the doctor’s boys had a few loads. Suppose the doctor had made an attempt to arm and defend himself,—the attempt would have been known and rousd the Indians. Besides, Jo Lewis was in the doctor’s family, and apparently his best friend. He would have been among the first armd for defense—and what a defense it would have been!
The doctor requested me to accompany him to the Utilla. Leaving dear sister Whitman for the last time in this world, greatly exhausted by her long and incessant watchings and labors with the sick, with three of her children and one of Mr. Osborn’s yet dangerously ill, to require her constant attention, Mrs. Osborn not yet able to leave her bed, and leaving my daughter—oh horrible!—to fall a captive into the hands of murderers, the doctor and myself started about sun-down.
The Utilla is about 20 miles from Waiilatpu, prairie country, as is the whole of the middle district of Oregon, with the exception of one or two mountains, at intervals of one and two hundred miles.
The night was dark, and the rain and wind beat furiously upon us. But our interview was sweet. We little thought it was to be our last. With feelings of deepest emotion, we calld to mind, that eleven years before, we crossd this trail the day before we reachd Walla-walla, the end of our seven months’ journey from New York. We little thought the journey of life was so soon to close. We calld to mind the high hopes and thrilling interests which had been awakend during the year that followd—of our successful labors, and the constant devotedness of the Indians to improvement. True, we rememberd the months of deep solicitude we had had, occasiond by the increasing, menacing demands of the Indians for pay for their water, their wood, their air, their lands. But much of this had passd away, and the Cayuse, as to efforts for improvement, and menacing the station, were in a far more encouraging condition than ever before.
But the principal topic of conversation during that dark night was the danger that threatend from another source. The little cloud, as a man’s hand, which had been hanging for some years in the distant horizon, now assumd a darker and more alarming appearance. The Papal Bishop and his priests seemd determind to crowd themselves upon us, and without consultation.