The first year we lived in a house on a side street on the outskirts of the town; our nearest neighbour was the constable Tom Pepper who was married to a squaw who seemed to get a licking from him every day judging from the row they made.
One night the foreman of the mill came up to our house and much excited because he had been shot at when going home. He showed us where the bullet had gone through the top of his hat and got dad to go with him to get Tom Pepper to arrest the man he thought had done the shooting but Tom refused to go saying that as long as he wasn't hurt he could do nothing - and that was all there was about it.
On the main corner of our street and the main street there was a saloon kept by a man named George Heldt who was also married to a squaw whose name was "Wildcat" who had the fanciest tattoo marks that could be imagined - red, blue and many other colours in fancy lines all over her face, arms and hands - it made her look like a real wildcat and we all took care to give her a wide berth when we saw her around as her temper was as savage as she looked. A couple of years later Heltd divorced her (Indian fashion)and married a white woman but within a month or so Wildcat got hold of him and scratched and clawed him so badly that he was laid up for weeks.
There were many Indians of the Digger Tribe living along the coast from one of whom I got a real Indian Bow and Arrows of which I was very proud both of ownership and skills. One time while playing with it a bigger boy, Johnny Moss, tried to take it from me upon which I threatened to shoot him, as he kept coming up to me. I let fly an arrow and struck him in the eye. I could not see how badly he was hurt as he started for home crying out that I had put his eye out. That evening he came with his father to the house after me. I don't know what they wanted to do with me or to me but father took my part and for a time it looked like as though they would have a fight themselves, but it ended by them going away without satisfaction. I expected to be in for something from father after but all I got was an order to break up that bow - which I was very pleased to do and so closed my career as a Wild Indian.
As school was closed during the rainy season (December until April) our second winter we attended a private school kept by the Reverend John Ross, a Baptist Minister formerly of our church in Thurso. He ran his school in a manner different to what we had been accustomed to and we all liked attending, but all that now lingers in my memory of what he had taught was the Kings of Wars of Judea and Israel and the heroes of Ancient Greece. today he would be classified as a specialist in Ancient History and beyond the capacity of then pupils.
At that time Mr Ross preached to three non denominational churches twenty five miles apart, Casper being the middle one. Horse back was the only mode of travel on Sunday, with stages up and down the coast from Noyo to Petaluma one trip each way once a week. Most of the travelling was by sailing schooners taking anywhere from twenty four hours to a week to make the trip to San Francisco depending on how the wind was.
Our second year in Casper we moved from Tom Peppers neighbourhood to a house, the verandah of which was closed in by the most beautiful Roses and Fuchsias that could be found around which bright coloured humming birds not much larger than butterflies were perpetually buzzing.
At this time we kept a cow and it was my charge to milk her, also drive her out to pasture and bring her in at night - an odious task as it meant being there morning and evening. It was a great relief to me although a loss to the family when she at last fell over the cliffs and broke her neck.
The last year or so in Casper seemed to be unlucky as father was laid up with a felon on his finger which had to be operated on leaving a crooked withered first joint on his right hand index finger. Shortly after recoverig from this operation he was again laid up with an infected jaw bone, had to go doawn to San Francisco where he was operated on by an army doctor. There was no such thing in those days as a local anesthetic and his trouble being in the head it would not be safe to give chloroform so he was laid out on an operating table with a man holding his feet another holding hi arms while a third held his head during the half hour or more that the doctor opened up the jaw bone ,chipped and scraped off all the infected bone and then sewed it up, where through it all father was more dead than alive; however he pulled through and lived until he was 93.
Mother was also in poor health at this time and as her people at home always wanting them to return it was finally decided to sell off and do so. During this period of stress I had gone to work in the sawmill. My first job was packing shingles, later marking lumber. our hours were starting work at 5.15 AM, then twenty minutes for breakfast at 6, a half hour for dinner at noon and finishing work at 6.45 PM - quite a contrast to the six day week and eight hour day now advocated.
One night the foreman of the mill came up to our house and much excited because he had been shot at when going home. He showed us where the bullet had gone through the top of his hat and got dad to go with him to get Tom Pepper to arrest the man he thought had done the shooting but Tom refused to go saying that as long as he wasn't hurt he could do nothing - and that was all there was about it.
On the main corner of our street and the main street there was a saloon kept by a man named George Heldt who was also married to a squaw whose name was "Wildcat" who had the fanciest tattoo marks that could be imagined - red, blue and many other colours in fancy lines all over her face, arms and hands - it made her look like a real wildcat and we all took care to give her a wide berth when we saw her around as her temper was as savage as she looked. A couple of years later Heltd divorced her (Indian fashion)and married a white woman but within a month or so Wildcat got hold of him and scratched and clawed him so badly that he was laid up for weeks.
There were many Indians of the Digger Tribe living along the coast from one of whom I got a real Indian Bow and Arrows of which I was very proud both of ownership and skills. One time while playing with it a bigger boy, Johnny Moss, tried to take it from me upon which I threatened to shoot him, as he kept coming up to me. I let fly an arrow and struck him in the eye. I could not see how badly he was hurt as he started for home crying out that I had put his eye out. That evening he came with his father to the house after me. I don't know what they wanted to do with me or to me but father took my part and for a time it looked like as though they would have a fight themselves, but it ended by them going away without satisfaction. I expected to be in for something from father after but all I got was an order to break up that bow - which I was very pleased to do and so closed my career as a Wild Indian.
As school was closed during the rainy season (December until April) our second winter we attended a private school kept by the Reverend John Ross, a Baptist Minister formerly of our church in Thurso. He ran his school in a manner different to what we had been accustomed to and we all liked attending, but all that now lingers in my memory of what he had taught was the Kings of Wars of Judea and Israel and the heroes of Ancient Greece. today he would be classified as a specialist in Ancient History and beyond the capacity of then pupils.
At that time Mr Ross preached to three non denominational churches twenty five miles apart, Casper being the middle one. Horse back was the only mode of travel on Sunday, with stages up and down the coast from Noyo to Petaluma one trip each way once a week. Most of the travelling was by sailing schooners taking anywhere from twenty four hours to a week to make the trip to San Francisco depending on how the wind was.
Our second year in Casper we moved from Tom Peppers neighbourhood to a house, the verandah of which was closed in by the most beautiful Roses and Fuchsias that could be found around which bright coloured humming birds not much larger than butterflies were perpetually buzzing.
At this time we kept a cow and it was my charge to milk her, also drive her out to pasture and bring her in at night - an odious task as it meant being there morning and evening. It was a great relief to me although a loss to the family when she at last fell over the cliffs and broke her neck.
The last year or so in Casper seemed to be unlucky as father was laid up with a felon on his finger which had to be operated on leaving a crooked withered first joint on his right hand index finger. Shortly after recoverig from this operation he was again laid up with an infected jaw bone, had to go doawn to San Francisco where he was operated on by an army doctor. There was no such thing in those days as a local anesthetic and his trouble being in the head it would not be safe to give chloroform so he was laid out on an operating table with a man holding his feet another holding hi arms while a third held his head during the half hour or more that the doctor opened up the jaw bone ,chipped and scraped off all the infected bone and then sewed it up, where through it all father was more dead than alive; however he pulled through and lived until he was 93.
Mother was also in poor health at this time and as her people at home always wanting them to return it was finally decided to sell off and do so. During this period of stress I had gone to work in the sawmill. My first job was packing shingles, later marking lumber. our hours were starting work at 5.15 AM, then twenty minutes for breakfast at 6, a half hour for dinner at noon and finishing work at 6.45 PM - quite a contrast to the six day week and eight hour day now advocated.
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