Owing to high tides that precluded beach travel, we were forced to remain there a week. Then Mr. Grigsby drove us to the Indian Agency (Taholah) where Chas. McIntyre was agent, and Dr. Hustin, physician in charge. The following day we walked the beach to the mouth of the Queets. We slept that night on Capt. Hank's boat, as we were very tired.
In the morning the Indians took us by canoe up the Queets to the mouth of the Clearwater. There we learned from Mr. Fitch that he had not built our cabin or planted our garden. Greatly disappointed, we moved into a shack where Jack Cooper now lives (1934). I think it was the Barnhart place. We lived there three months.
The Donaldsons had not been there long when tragedy struck their family. Jane says:
"Late in October, while Dad was away from home, brother Jim decided to chop down an alder tree. But when it fell it jumped back and pinned his foot to the log on which he was standing. With the strength of desperation Mother lifted the alder off his crushed foot, though later she could not lift it. Neighbors were summoned, and they made a stretcher and carried Jim down the beach to the Indian Agency. There, on his tenth birthday his foot was amputated by Dr. Huston. Later Dad made him a peg out of steel, changing it as Jim grew, so that he was able to do everything other boys did, including swimming.
Fortunately Dad was with us when there came a terrible storm. By nightfall the Clearwater was rising rapidly and rushing past the cabin. We had a double tier of bunks along the wall. Dad and Mother and baby sister were in the lower bunk when the water came up under the floor and floated it, tipping the table where the lighted coal-oil lamp stood. Dad grabbed it just in time to keep it from falling onto the floor.
Fearing that the cabin might be swept down river, he got us out of bed, took us back unto the woods, and built a fire. We sat beside it throughout the night. Belle, who was only six months old, had no extra clothes except a few diapers we grabbed as we fled from the river. By daylight the water had gone down and we returned to the cabin to find that a tubful of diapers left outside soaking had been washed away.
Then, in January, 1893, Dad bought a relinquishment on the Queets from John Powell and we moved into his cabin."