The band looking down on us evidently had not had much fish or game to eat for some time, so when they had made Williamson understand that they were suffering for food he permitted them to come into camp, and furnished them with a supply, which they greedily swallowed as fast as it was placed at their service, regardless of possible indigestion.  When they had eaten all they could hold, their enjoyment was made complete by the soldiers, who gave them a quantity of strong plug tobacco.  This they smoked incessantly, inhaling all the smoke, so that none of the effect should be lost.  When we abandoned this camp the next day, the miserable wretches remained in it and collected the offal about the cooks’ fires to feast still more, piecing out the meal, no doubt, with their staple article of food—­grasshoppers.

On the morning of August 5 Lieutenant Hood started back to Fort Reading, and Lieutenant Williamson resumed his march for the Columbia River.  Our course was up Pit River, by the lower and upper canons, then across to the Klamath Lakes, then east, along their edge to the upper lake.  At the middle Klamath Lake, just after crossing Lost River and the Natural Bridge, we met a small party of citizens from Jacksonville, Oregon, looking for hostile Indians who had committed some depredations in their neighborhood.  From them we learned that the Rogue River Indians in southern Oregon were on the war-path, and that as the “regular troops up there were of no account, the citizens had taken matters in hand, and intended cleaning up the hostiles.”  They swaggered about our camp, bragged a good deal, cursed the Indians loudly, and soundly abused the Government for not giving them better protection.  It struck me, however, that they had not worked very hard to find the hostiles; indeed, it could plainly be seen that their expedition was a town-meeting sort of affair, and that anxiety to get safe home was uppermost in their thoughts.  The enthusiasm with which they started had all oozed out, and that night they marched back to Jacksonville.  The next day, at the head of the lake, we came across an Indian village, and I have often wondered since what would have been the course pursued by these valiant warriors from Jacksonville had they gone far enough to get into its vicinity.

When we reached the village the tepees—­made of grass—­were all standing, the fires burning and pots boiling—­the pots filled with camas and tula roots—­but not an Indian was to be seen.  Williamson directed that nothing in the village should be disturbed; so guards were placed over it to carry out his instructions and we went into camp just a little beyond.  We had scarcely established ourselves when a very old Indian rose up from the high grass some distance off, and with peaceable signs approached our camp, evidently for the purpose of learning whether or not our intentions were hostile.  Williamson told him we were friendly; that we had passed