CHAPTER XIV
1847-1855
The most appalling horror in the history of Oregon and equal in demoniac savagery to anything in the history of the entire country was the unprovoked massacre of Dr. Marcus Whitman and wife, and twelve other persons at the Whitman missionary station in Walla Walla valley on November 29-30, 1847. And while there was not the sickening ferocity of burning at the stake which has in past times attended the deadly strife between competing races and rival creeds, yet that element of diabolical depravity was more than equaled in the fact that the victims of this bloody deed were purely, honestly and patiently sacrificing their lives to benefit and lift up the savages that struck them down.
The actual facts of the bloody deed are briefly stated. During the forenoon of the day on which the massacre was executed Dr. Whitman assisted at the funeral of an Indian who had died during his visit to the Umatilla, and was struck with the absence of the tribe, many of whom mounted, were riding about, and giving no attention to the burial; but as there had been a slaughter of beef which was being dressed in the mission yard, an occasion which always drew the Indians about, the circumstances was in part at least accounted for. School was in session, several men and boys were absent at the saw-mill near the foot of the mountains; the women were employed with the duties of housekeeping and nursing the sick, and all was quiet as usual, when Whitman fatigued with two nights' loss of sleep entered the common sitting-room of his house and sat down before the fire to rest thinking such thoughts as—Ah! who will say?
While he thus mused, two chiefs, Tiloukaikt and Tamahas, surnamed "The Murderer," from his having killed a number of his own people, presented themselves at the door leading to an adjoining room, asking for medicines, when the doctor arose and went to them, afterward seating himself to prepare the drugs. And now the hour had come! Tamahas stepped behind him, drew his tomahawk from beneath his blanket, and with one or two cruel blows laid low forever the man of God. John Sager, who was in the room prostrated by sickness, drew a pistol, but was quickly cut to pieces. In his struggle for life he wounded two of his assailants, who, at a preconcerted signal had with others crowded into the house. A tumult then arose throughout the mission. All the men encountered by the savages were slain. Some were killed outright; others were bruised and
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