TOLD by the PIONEERS - Washington Secretary of State

Told by the Pioneers
In 1869 A. J. Splawn started a trading post, named in jest "Robber's
Roost." Then John Shoudy built a store. Ellensburg was
named for his wife, Ellen. Shoudy bought flour for his store from
lTmatilla, Oregon.
The home of the early settler was of necessity a workshop. My
father bought from The Dalles, Oregon, once a year, a side of sole
leather and one of upper leather. He made wooden lasts for our
shoes. Pegs were made from choke cherry wood. Mother sewed the
uppers and father put the shoes together. It took two days to make
one pair. I can say this for the shoes, they wore.
JIIIother made our hats out of wheat straw. I can see her now, braiding
and sewing the wheat into big wide-brimmed hats. The coffee
mill was used to grind the wheat and corn when flour supplies were
exhausted. It was truly whole wheat flour, for nothing could be taken
out, and everything but the stalks was in the bread.
The local elections and politics held the most interest. A threatened
fight between "Old Man" Robinson and Lafe Cassidy was the high
light of an early election. The election day when Al ·Whitson broke
his leg, a team ran away scattering a load of lumber, and a squaw got
drunk and hollered and raised a big fuss, was a red-letter day, still
remembered for its excitement.
Indians kept us pretty badly scared. In 1878 the whites were forted
three times at Charles Wheeler's farm. The settlers built a stockade
with portholes to shoot from. On the LaBru place the fort was of up­
('uded logs. Guards were mounted on top. Only when the guards
were there were the children allowed out for a run. At night the orders
were to call out, then shoot. While forted up on the Charles
Schnebly place, I disobeyed the strict orders given the children and
stayed outside w'hen I was supposed to come in. I was nearly shot,
and got such a talking-to I hate to think of it even yet.
When the Indian scare was over, and everybody had gone back to
work; my parents were gone, my sister and brothers were in the barn.
I saw Indians coming across the fields. I ran toward the house to lock
the doors. As I was making a run for it, to hide in the grove, one Indian
saw me and the band surrounded the grove. I knew I must come
out. I tried not to be frightened. When asked in Chinook where my
parents were, I said I didn't know. One brave said, in emphatic and
purest English, " You lie."
If the Indians knew the men were out and only the women and chilo
dren home, it was a sort of bright interlude between actual war times,
to gallop their cayuses around and around the house whooping their
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