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<DIV>Catherine Carney Sager Pringle was one of the girls taken hostage by the
Indians during the Whitman massacre. Her two young brothers, John and
Francisco Sager, were killed by the Indians at the Whitman Mission.
Catherine was released after a couple of days.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Read her account of this and her trek across the Oregon Trail in 1844
at:</DIV>
<DIV><A
href="http://www.pbs.org/weta/thewest/resources/archives/two/sager1.htm">http://www.pbs.org/weta/thewest/resources/archives/two/sager1.htm</A></DIV>
<DIV>Catherine gained a sister, and lost both parents along the trail from
Missouri to Oregon. The 7 Sager children ( 5 girls and 2
boys), were taken in by the Whitmans.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Catherine later married Clark Spencer Pringle, and one of their sons
(Sanford), married Mary Houk; the daughter of my gr grandfather, Jacob
Houk.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Cecil</DIV>
<DIV><IMG alt="" hspace=0 src="cid:008501c442cf$d40509e0$3db26f44@CecilHouk203"
align=baseline border=0></DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
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style="PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 5px; MARGIN-LEFT: 5px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN-RIGHT: 0px">
<DIV style="FONT: 10pt arial">----- Original Message ----- </DIV>
<DIV
style="BACKGROUND: #e4e4e4; FONT: 10pt arial; font-color: black"><B>From:</B>
<A title=DAVIESW739@aol.com
href="mailto:DAVIESW739@aol.com">DAVIESW739@aol.com</A> </DIV>
<DIV style="FONT: 10pt arial"><B>To:</B> <A
title=or-roots@sosinet.sos.state.or.us
href="mailto:or-roots@sosinet.sos.state.or.us">or-roots@sosinet.sos.state.or.us</A>
</DIV>
<DIV style="FONT: 10pt arial"><B>Sent:</B> Thursday, May 20, 2004 7:31
AM</DIV>
<DIV style="FONT: 10pt arial"><B>Subject:</B> Re: [or-roots] Marcus Whitman
and the Indians (from aunt Charlotte's book)</DIV>
<DIV><BR></DIV>
<DIV>One day in November a man rode down to the ferry landing on the opposite
bank of the river. He rode a horse that was steaming wet with sweat that
lathered and streaked across his shoulders and flanks. We were living then in
the house that Father had built on the very brink of the river, so that we
might be near the ferry, and we saw the man stop at our gate and heard him
call to Father and the boys.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> The picture of that little group is clear in my memory, the
upturned faces, and the stranger leaning down from his saddle, his bridle
rains held tightly in his one hand while with the other, he pointed toward the
high Cascade Range Mountains, but it was to something far beyond them that the
stranger was pointing. It was toward Wa-i-i-lat-pu, and before night had come,
every man of our family except Father, was following the directions of his
pointing finger, not only our boys, but every able bodied man in our country
was riding to the rescue of fifteen or twenty young women held prisoner in the
Cayuse Indian Village, and to avenge the brutal massacre of Dr. and Mrs.
Whitman and many others, who were at the Mission.</DIV>
<DIV><STRONG><FONT color=#ff0000>SNIP
SNIP</FONT></STRONG></DIV></BLOCKQUOTE></BODY></HTML>